Useless Beauty
by 13-Red-Cards
Summary: "Poor Belle. So simple-minded and useless! It's lucky for her she's pretty. She'll always be taken care of!" A retelling of the classic fairy tale, 'Beauty and the Beast.'
1. Chapter 1

**First of all, I may have named the heroine Belle, but this has nothing to do with Disney's animated movie. It's just that the story of Beauty and the Beast is of French origin, so I wanted to give the characters French names, and quite frankly, Belle is the best substitute for Beauty. **

**This story is basically a retelling of the original fairy tale, perhaps with a few embellishments as I go along. I mainly started writing it because I wanted to play around with Beauty's character. She's normally depicted as being very capable, independent, and strong-willed, so I decided to make her more timid. Hopefully she doesn't come across as annoying! Please review with your feedback! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 1: **

The house was battered yet well-kept. It was woeful yet hopeful: Woeful because it had clearly seen better days, but hopeful due to the obvious care with which its inhabitants attempted to maintain it. It suggested that the anticipation of prosperity remained in the home, even when prosperity itself had fled.

There were three handsome young men and three pretty girls going in and out of the house. The men were hauling logs, while the girls were carrying buckets of water. It was winter, and a thin layer of snow covered the ground. All six youths were panting heavily as they exerted themselves, their breaths clearly visible in the cold air.

"Belle, hurry up!" one of the girls shouted to her sister, a petite girl who was struggling to hoist a relatively large pail.

"Sorry!" the girl, Belle, shouted in reply. It must be said that she was significantly prettier than her two older sisters, though one could tell by the way she carried herself that she had no conception of her own beauty.

"Don't rush her, Marie," one of the young men admonished his sister. "Belle's much weaker than you are. She really is trying."

"She always tries," Marie replied. "But her efforts don't really amount to anything, do they?"

"Poor thing," said the third sister, looking back at Belle, who had finally succeeded in lifting her bucket and was now staggering after her siblings. "So simple-minded and useless. It's lucky for her she's pretty! She'll always be taken care of!" This final statement was spoken with just a touch of envy.

Belle frowned, overhearing her sister's hurtful words. "Adele shouldn't say such things," she muttered. "I'm not simple-minded or useless." She paused, thought for a moment, then amended her statement. "I'm not _very_ useless." Glancing towards the house, she saw her oldest brother, Laurent, striding towards her.

"Belle, give me your bucket," he ordered her. "You've done enough. Why don't you go inside and stoke the fire?"

"I'm not tired," Belle said stoutly, tightening her grip on the handle of her pail.

"Don't be ridiculous," Laurent scoffed. "I can tell by your eyes that you're about to faint. Go inside and warm yourself, please. When Papa returns, I don't want him to find his favorite child half-dead." Ignoring Belle's protests, he seized the bucket from her hands and carried it into the house. "Come, Belle!" he shouted over his shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, Belle followed her overbearing brother into the house. Inside, a fire was blazing. Over the fire hung a large pot in which water was just beginning to boil. Belle watched as Laurent poured into the pot the bucket of water which she had been attempting to carry.

"Marie and Adele are going to make soup," Laurent informed his little sister. "They're in the cellar now, gathering all the ingredients."

"I'll go help them," Belle declared. She turned to the cellar stairs, eager to assist her older sisters, but Laurent put an arm in front of her, halting her departure.

"You will stay by the fire and make sure it doesn't burn out," he insisted.

Belle looked at the roaring flames, then glanced up at her brother with a skeptical expression. "The fire won't burn out for hours," she said. "I'm not stupid. Let me help Adele and Marie."

"Of course you're not stupid," Laurent hastily agreed, "but a fire should always be watched. I'm going to go help Louis and David." With these words, he marched out of the house to join his two brothers in their wood-chopping.

Belle pulled a stool toward the fire and despondently sat down. For a long time, she simply stared into the fire with a glum expression. "Useless," she mumbled, echoing the words of her sister Adele. As she gazed thoughtlessly into the fire, a strange story began to form in her mind. She imagined princes and princesses, witches and fairies, enchanted forests and fearsome dragons…

"Excuse me, Belle," Marie's voice suddenly broke in. "Can you move over? Adele and I need to reach the pot."

"Sorry," Belle hurriedly said, scooting her stool back from the fire.

"Daydreaming again?" Adele asked with a condescending smile.

Belle did not like it when her sisters patronized her. "Yes, I was daydreaming," she grumpily replied. "Laurent won't let me do anything else."

"Well, honestly, what else can you do?" Marie bluntly asked.

"I'm sure I could do many things, if you'd let me!" Belle protested. "Can I help you now?"

"No, not today," Marie replied as she dropped a large bundle of chopped potatoes into the boiling water. "We don't have time to teach you what to do."

"I've watched you so much that I think I already know what to do," Belle insisted. "I could be very helpful. Adele, can't I please help?"

"No, you really can't," Adele said with an impatient sigh. "But since Papa will be coming home soon, perhaps you should dust the house."

"Yes, why don't you go dust?" Marie eagerly agreed.

"Very well, I'll do that," Belle said slowly, not sure that dusting would really be useful, since she knew Adele and Marie had scoured the entire house only two days prior. Nevertheless, she was eager for any sort of task, so she followed her sisters' suggestion.

Papa had been absent for several months, and Belle and her siblings were eagerly awaiting the day on which he would return. He had gone to the big city in an attempt to regain his former wealth. Everyone in the family desperately hoped that he would be successful in his endeavor. During the past several years, all six children had learned how to survive without money, but the experience had not been enjoyable. It would be wonderful to have servants again. David hoped to go to the university, and both Adele and Marie were eager to be considered eligible brides. More importantly, all six children wanted to purchase a proper gravestone for their departed mother. None of this could occur without money.

Papa had been extremely optimistic when he departed. "Daughters, what would you like me to bring you as gifts?" he had asked. "Ask for anything you desire! After all, I'll need to spend my new money on something."

Giggling, Adele had requested a beautiful gown to wear to the next town dance. Marie had simply said, "Any sort of jewels will do."

Belle had been at a loss. "I don't really need a gown or jewels," she had reflected, "so why don't you just bring me a pretty rose?"

"Roses don't grow in the winter," David had scoffed. "Really, Belle, you should try to use your brain more often."

Chastened, Belle had gazed awkwardly at the floor until Papa reassured her, "I'll find you a rose, Belle. Surely there will be some in the city!"

"Come home safely, Papa," Belle had said, gratefully embracing her father.

How she missed him now! He had never once told her she was useless or stupid. Her siblings often remarked, not without a touch of envy, that she was her father's favorite child, but Belle didn't believe them. She knew Papa was very fair, and a fair man would never prefer one child over the others.

As they hauled logs, cooked and dusted on that wintry morning, all the children had expected Papa to return within two or three days. However, he did not. He did not return in four days, nor in five, nor even in six. Finally, when his six children were almost petrified with fear of what could have happened to him, he appeared on the doorstep with a large chest of riches and an expression of despair.

**Well, that's that. If you have any thoughts, comments, or criticism, please leave a review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**When I start a story, I tend to write the first several chapters all at once. So, here is chapter 2! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 2: **

It was midday, but the woods were dark. Strange noises startled Belle at every turn, and she was terrified at the thought of what might leap out at her from the shadows of the trees. However, this terror was nothing compared to the fear of what awaited her when she emerged from the woods.

Papa had come home rich, to be sure, but this good fortune paled in comparison to the tragedy he had related to his children. The first words he had uttered upon his return were simply: "Belle, I'm afraid you must leave us."

"Where is she going?" Adele had immediately asked. "Are you sending her away to school? That's not fair, Papa. I've always wanted to be educated at a real school."

"Hush, Adele. Let Papa speak!" Marie had interrupted.

"Belle," Papa continued, "you are going to live in an enormous palace."

"Don't tell us you've found her a rich husband!" Louis exclaimed. "Good work, Papa! Is he a duke? Or merely a count?"

"I'm older, so I should marry first," Marie had muttered mutinously.

Utterly confused, Belle looked around at her father and siblings in the greatest consternation. "I-I don't understand," she stuttered. "Why am I leaving? What palace will I live in? Papa, I don't really want to leave home."

"I made a terrible mistake as I was coming home," Papa replied, burying his face in his hands. "Children, let's all sit down. I'll tell you what has happened.

"As I was journeying home, I became lost in the woods that lie to the east of our home. I had wandered off the main road in search of a shortcut, because I wanted to arrive home sooner. Night fell, and it began to snow heavily. I would have frozen had I not stumbled upon a palace in the middle of the woods."

"So the rumors are true? There actually is a palace in that forest? Everyone knows there's deep enchantment in those woods, but I hadn't believed the stories about the palace. It's really there?" Laurent had interrupted.

"Yes, it is," Papa wearily replied. "I knew I would probably freeze if I remained outside that night, so I managed to climb over the gate into the palace grounds. The palace seemed to be deserted, so I simply entered. I made a fire, found a bedroom, and spent a very comfortable night. In the morning, I packed my bags and prepared to leave.

"Out in the grounds, a large rosebush was growing. I suppose it must have been enchanted, otherwise it would not have had flowers in the wintertime. I remembered my promise to bring back a rose for Belle, so I plucked one of the roses.

"Suddenly, I heard a huge roar, and a gigantic Beast rushed out of the palace, with large horns and thick fur, huge, vicious teeth, murderous talons and bloodshot eyes! It bellowed that I was repaying it for its hospitality with thievery, and that it would kill me on the spot. I begged it to spare my life. I told it that I had six children who were waiting for me, three sons and three daughters. When I said this, it stopped threatening me and began to ask questions about my family. I described all of you, and when I had finished, it offered me a deal.

"It said that it would release me and would even give me a chest of gold and jewels if I would send my youngest daughter to live in its palace. If I left with the treasure but failed to send my daughter within a week, it said it would come and slaughter my entire family. Belle, this is why you must go live in its palace. I chose to leave, so if you do not go, we all will die. Please forgive me."

Having related his tale, Papa had broken down into sobs. None of his children could comfort him in any way. After all, they themselves were far too shaken to do any good.

"David, Louis and I will go slay the Beast!" Laurent had confidently declared. "Belle doesn't need to go. We'll take care of everything."

Papa had swiftly vetoed this suggestion, saying that the three young men would be slaughtered in seconds. Belle was not disappointed by this, for she had immediately seen that there was no escape from her fate. She had to go live with the Beast.

This was the reason why she was struggling through the forest now, terrified to go forward but even more terrified of turning back.

"What if the Beast eats me?" she wondered, trembling. "Will it torture me first? I suppose it might simply make me its servant. That won't be so bad. But I'm useless. Everyone says so. The Beast will see how useless I am, and then it will eat me without a second thought." Tears welled up in her eyes and quickly spilled over. They froze on her cheeks before they could trickle very far.

"I really don't want to die yet," she murmured as she pushed her way through a snowdrift. A harsh wind blew through the forest, and her teeth began to chatter violently. "Perhaps I'll die before I even reach the palace. It's so cold."

Nearly frozen, she pressed onwards, determined to cling to life. After what seemed like hours of pointless wandering, she unexpectedly emerged from the woods. Her mouth dropped open as she gazed upon the palace before her.

It was surrounded by a massive wall, and the high gate was of the strongest iron. Belle could scarcely believe that her father had managed to climb over it. His desperation must have given him strength. The palace was built out of grey stone, and its many towers and terraces looked positively menacing. There were numerous gargoyles with leering faces that protruded from the corners of the immense structure. Any architect would have marveled at the palace, but Belle was merely a girl, and she marveled only at the fact that she had not yet passed out from fear and despair.

She stood stiffly before the palace gate, wondering what was going to happen to her. "Hello?" she timidly called out. "I've come."

There was no reply. The only sounds were Belle's labored breathing and the creaking of trees as they were battered by the wind.

"Please let me in," Belle called out. "I'm really…quite cold! Please, open the gate!"

Once again, there was no response from the soulless palace. Hopeless, Belle crouched down beside the gate and began rubbing her legs in an attempt to warm them. After a few minutes, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the gate. Leaping to her feet, she eagerly pressed her face between the gate's iron bars. However, when she saw the expressionless face of the ancient lady who was unlocking the gate, she quickly stepped back. Neither Belle nor the old woman spoke until Belle had entered the grounds of the palace and the gate had been locked securely behind her.

"Hello," the woman finally said. She spoke as though she had not used her voice for quite some time.

"Hello," Belle said, her voice shaking with new terror. Now that she was inside the palace grounds and was reasonably sure that she would not freeze to death, she remembered her father's description of the monster which had summoned her.

"I am surprised you found the palace," the old woman remarked.

"Papa gave me directions," Belle meekly replied.

They entered the palace through a side door that was almost hidden by a thick growth of ivy. Just before she went inside, Belle caught a glimpse of the rose bush that had brought this misfortune upon her. Her misery deepened.

"What is your name?" asked the old woman as she led Belle up a flight of spiral stairs.

Belle did not reply at first. She was overawed by the massive staircase and could not find her voice.

"Girl, what is your name?" the woman asked, a little more sharply.

"Oh! I'm sorry. My name is Belle," the girl replied, still gaping at the never-ending staircase.

Belle cringed at the scornful look the old woman gave her. "I'm not simple-minded," Belle murmured.

Laughing, the old woman replied, "I never called you simple-minded."

"But you thought it," Belle pointed out. "I can tell when people think I'm simple-minded."

"As you wish," the old woman evasively replied. "For my part, I am called Francoise."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Francoise," Belle said politely, not meaning a single word she said.

They reached a landing at the top of the staircase. Beckoning for Belle to follow, Francoise turned left down a long, barren hallway. At the very end, she opened a sturdy wooden door and gestured for Belle to enter.

"You will live in this room," she said.

Belle peered about her new living quarters. The room was spacious yet practically empty. It contained a bed, which looked comfortable enough, and a large wardrobe. There was a bowl of coals on a stool next to the bed, and that was all.

At the time, however, Belle was not interested in the room. Puzzled, she turned to Francoise and asked, "What exactly am I going to _do _here?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're going to sleep here. That's your bed."

"No, that's not what I mean," Belle hastily interrupted. "What am I going to do in this palace?"

"We will see," Francoise cryptically replied. "I'm sure you will make yourself useful." With those words, she nodded her head to the girl and swiftly exited the room.

No less fearful than when she had first arrived, Belle huddled next to her bowl of coals and attempted to warm her chilled bones.

**So that's chapter 2. Please leave a review with your comments! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter. I had intended to pack more into it, but then I figured I might as well post what I've most thoroughly worked on and leave the rest for the next chapter. I'd like to give a huge thank you to Delia Anole for her extremely helpful reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 3: **

Belle huddled against the wall, waiting to be summoned into the master's chambers. She could hear Francoise and the Beast speaking to one another from behind the closed door, and with every word that reached her eyes, her fear increased.

"What does she look like?" asked a horrible, rasping voice. Belle shuddered.

"She is small," Francoise flatly replied. "She is brown-haired, brown-eyed, and quite delicate. Very pretty."

Closing her eyes in terror, Belle tried to think back to a happier time, but every happy memory involved her father, and every time she thought of her father, she remembered how the Beast had threatened him with eternal imprisonment if he did not send his daughter to live in this horrid palace.

Belle had already dwelled in the palace for two full days. She had spent much of her time exploring, and had become well-acquainted with the west wing of the palace, which contained her bedroom. It seemed that the palace was almost entirely devoid of life. Besides Francoise, she met no one, and she very rarely encountered Francoise. Although she was lonely, Belle did not really mind the emptiness of the palace, because it gave her hope that she might never meet the Beast. However, her hopes had been dashed when Francoise unexpectedly approached her with the words, "You must come see the master now."

"Is he the one who controls the Beast?" Belle had fearfully asked.

Francoise had laughed at her. "Not at all. He _is _the Beast."

That exchange had taken place only fifteen minutes prior. Now, Belle was about to face the Beast himself. She felt absolutely certain that she would collapse with terror.

"Send her to me," the Beast suddenly commanded. Belle bit back a shriek.

Francoise emerged from the room and gave Belle a single nod. "You may enter," she said.

Her legs shaking, Belle stepped inside the antechamber of the Beast's quarters. Unlike her sparsely furnished room, this chamber was filled with antique furniture. Much of it was battered and torn, but it was present nonetheless. A large hearth at the opposite end of the room contained a blazing fire to which Belle was instinctively drawn. She took a step towards it.

"Good evening," the Beast's horrid voice suddenly said. It spoke from the shadows beside the hearth. Belle could only see a huge, hulking figure with flashing eyes and ferocious teeth that glittered in the firelight.

She tried to respond to his greeting, but her voice failed her. No sound passed her lips.

"Why don't you reply?" the Beast demanded.

"I'm too afraid," Belle managed to squeak. The Beast had shifted slightly, and she could now see its massive claws. She shuddered from horror.

"You're shivering. Are you cold?" asked the Beast.

"No, I'm not c-cold," Belle stammered.

"It's your fear," the Beast growled. When she did not immediately reply, it asked in a louder voice, "Am I not correct?"

"Yes, you are correct," she hastily agreed. She was staring fixedly at the Beast's claws, as though incapable of looking away. Her horror was so great that she could not avert her eyes.

Growling, the Beast shifted its position yet again. It was now almost fully illuminated by the fire. Belle could now see the horns which her father had described.

"Just like a bull," she murmured.

"I am not an animal!" the Beast roared, rising up on its hind legs.

Belle wished she dared to scream. Instead, she simply shrank back as far as she possibly could and hid her face in her hands. "Please forgive me!" she begged through her fingers. "I'm very simple-minded, and I often say foolish things. I will try to stop. Please don't harm me."

"Simple-minded," the Beast repeated. "I see." It sank back down to all fours and regarded Belle with its terrifyingly red eyes. "You fear I am going to harm you?"

"Yes," Belle breathed.

"Well," it growled, "I will not."

Although Belle knew she should have felt relieved at this statement, her fear only increased due to the unexpectedness of the Beast's words. "Why not?" she asked in a voice so small that it was barely audible.

"It would not suit my purposes," the monster replied in a low rumble as it crouched beside the fireplace. It watched Belle from the corner of its eye. "Sit," it suddenly commanded her. "There is a stool by the door. Bring it close to me and sit upon it."

She hurried to obey the Beast's command, but when she had sat down on the stool, the Beast merely glared at her.

"Bring the stool closer to me," it snarled.

Trembling, Belle pulled her seat nearer to the Beast. If she had reached out with her hand, she would have been able to touch the black, matted hair of its flank.

"Your father said you are nearly seventeen years old," it unexpectedly said.

"Yes, that's true," Belle timidly agreed.

"It can't be true," the Beast scoffed. "You are far too small and dull for such an age."

"Well, how old are you?" she asked in a brave attempt at conversation.

The Beast merely growled, and Belle inwardly vowed that she would never again make an attempt at bravery. Both remained silent for quite some time. Belle was too frightened to speak, while the Beast simply seemed to have nothing it wished to say. After several terrible minutes, it finally raised its head and said, "You may go."

Belle bolted from the room.

Francoise, expressionless as ever, was waiting for her in the hall. She frowned severely upon observing Belle's haste. "You must not run from the master," she chastised the terror-stricken girl.

"It's too awful!" Belle burst out. Tears began to pour from her eyes. "I can't face the Beast. It's too terrible. Please let me go home! I can't do it!" Dropping to her knees, she grabbed Francoise's hands and pathetically tugged upon them.

Without any change in her expression, Francoise liberated her hands and stepped back from the miserable girl. "Never refer to the master as 'it,'" she said. "He does not consider himself an animal. I do not consider him an animal, either. Nor should you."

Belle made no response. She was still sobbing inconsolably. Francoise watched her pitilessly for some time, then, with a slight sigh, turned to the door of the Beast's chambers and knocked twice.

"What is it now?" the Beast's voice snarled from within.

"She is too young," Francoise declared.

Belle heard the sound of heavy stomps, then the door flew upon and the Beast appeared, looming over his servant with a fearsome expression. He glanced at Belle, weeping on the floor, and snorted in what seemed like disgust.

"She will grow older," he said.

"But she will not necessarily become less childlike," Francoise calmly replied. "Look at her. She can't live here. She's not strong enough. She'll wither away. Let's exchange her for one of her sisters."

"No!" Belle suddenly cried out, her fear on behalf of her sisters overcoming even her terror of the Beast.

"Now you want to stay?" the Beast snarled. He lowered his face so that his horns hung over her head and his red-tinted eyes were only inches away from hers.

"I don't want my sisters to come here," Belle whispered, staring into the Beast's face with wide eyes.

The Beast's eyes gleamed as he replied, "You can rest assured that they won't come here. You will stay in my palace forever. Consider yourself my property." He concluded by firmly declaring, "I claim you as my own."

Startled out of her tears, Belle stared at the Beast in utter horror. Never before had she truly comprehended the fact that she was to live in this palace forever, that she would never be permitted to return to her family, and that her fate was entirely controlled by the Beast. Now she fully realized that she been condemned to an inescapable prison.

Either the Beast did not notice her dismay or he simply chose to ignore it. "Now listen to me, Belle," he said. He did not speak unkindly, but no words could sound pleasant when uttered in his awful rasp. "You are free to wander around the castle. Nothing is restricted except for my chambers, which you may only enter upon invitation. Of course, it seems unlikely that you would voluntarily seek them out." He said this last sentence with a hint of bitterness. "I expect you to come and sit with me every evening. Francoise, see to it that this occurs."

"Yes, master," Francoise flatly agreed.

"Do you understand?" the Beast demanded, fixing a stern gaze on the horrorstricken girl still kneeling on the floor of his palace.

"Yes," Belle murmured.

"Repeat what I have told you."

"I can go anywhere I want except for your chambers. Every evening I have to sit with you. You own me," Belle said in an oddly mechanical voice.

"Excellent," said the Beast. He glanced toward Francoise, looked back at Belle one more time, made a low growl in his throat, and at last returned to his chambers, slamming the door behind him. Francoise also departed. Belle was left alone for some time, until she finally picked herself up off the floor and began to make her way back to her room.

**There you have it. Reviews are appreciated! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow. It's been almost four months since the last chapter. I'm so sorry about that! Isn't it weird how much busier life becomes during the summer? At any rate, chapter 4 is now here, and I hope you enjoy it! I'm afraid it doesn't really move things forward; it was rather difficult to write after taking such a long break, and the chapter ended up taking the form of an extended conversation between Belle and Francoise.**

**I should just stop explaining and start thanking those of you who reviewed the previous chapter: E.L. Tak, Dominique the Author, and Delia Anole. Reviews mean a lot, so thank you all very much for taking the time to leave one for me! **

**Chapter 4: **

"You must not behave so rudely to the master."

"How have I been rude?" Belle asked, staring through the gates of the courtyard into the dark forest beyond. Her voice remained completely steady, with almost no trace of emotion. As she spoke, the chill winter wind began to blow fiercely, and she pulled her woolen cloak tighter about her slight frame.

Francoise took several steps forward so that she stood beside the frail prisoner. "You never speak to him," Francoise replied. "Not once during the past two weeks have you two had a proper conversation."

"I have nothing to say, nor does he."

"He would, if you encouraged him."

"He's a beast, not a village boy," Belle harshly replied, her voice cracking with sudden emotion. "And I can't bear to be near him. He's horrible and monstrous and terrifying."

Although she frowned in disapproval, Francoise said nothing to contradict these bitter words.

Whimpering, Belle laid her head against the bars of the gates, ignoring the burn of the freezing metal upon her skin. "It's Sunday, isn't it?" she murmured. "I should be in church with my family. I miss the bells and the singing. Not the preaching. Sermons are dreadfully boring. But I'd sit through fifty sermons if it meant I could go home and get away from the Beast."

"You can't go home or leave the master," Francoise flatly told the girl. "You will remain here forever."

"I hate the master," Belle muttered. She stood in unmoving silence for a few seconds, then suddenly raised her head. "I hear bells."

"Indeed," Francoise remarked.

"Where is the sound coming from?"

"The local church."

"May I go?"

"Go where?"

"To church. May I attend the local church?"

"You'll have to ask the master."

Belle groaned inwardly. That was impossible. She could never ask the Beast for anything, especially not permission to leave the castle. For several seconds, she simply stared at her boots and the surrounding snow. At last, she raised her eyes and timidly asked, "Who attends the church?"

"The master's vassals. They live in the forest."

"Vassals?" Belle incredulously squeaked. "The Beast has vassals?" Whirling around, she peered intently at the sinister shape of the castle, as if it would respond to her query.

"Of course. Who but a lord would occupy such a castle?" Francoise's tone suggested complete disgust with the girl's thick skull.

"Who would allow a beast to be a lord?" Belle retorted. "I certainly wouldn't tolerate it, and I can't imagine anyone else who would. Why do the people here serve the Beast?"

"Well, to be precise, the people who dwell in this forest are the master's former vassals. They no longer serve him."

The usually reticent Francoise was being surprisingly informative, so Belle eagerly asked, "Why?"

"They believe him to be dead."

Shocked, Belle simply stared at Francoise for several seconds. "Why do they believe that?" she finally asked. The bells of the forest church had stopped clanging, but she failed to notice. Engrossed in the old woman's words, she had almost entirely forgotten the bells, though they had previously been so tantalizing.

"The master and I led them to believe it," Francoise calmly replied.

"Did you fake his death?"

"In a way. The master ceased communicating with his vassals, and I informed them that he had left to lead a battalion of the king's troops in the Holy Crusade. Two years later, I spread the story that he had been killed in battle. That occurred three years ago." Noticing that Belle was beginning to shiver, she added, "Perhaps we should go indoors."

"No, please finish your story," Belle urged her. "I'm warm enough. I have this thick cloak."

"The story is finished," Francoise replied with a slight shrug. "The people of the forest believe their lord is dead. It doesn't make a great difference to them, of course. They've simply continued in their daily habits."

Belle pondered the servant's words for a few moments, then asked, "Do you ever see them?"

"Of course. I have to go to the market to purchase food and other supplies."

"Don't they wonder why you still live in the castle?"

"I've told them I can't bear to leave, having dwelt here for nearly fifty years."

"You've worked for the Beast for fifty years?" Belle gasped. She was utterly appalled.

Francoise snorted in derision. "The master is not nearly fifty years old," she said. "I worked for his father before him."

This statement shocked Belle more than any other. She could only gape in confusion as she processed Francoise's words, her large brown eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to wrap her mind around the idea that had just been presented to her.

The old servant was still surveying the girl with a mocking smile. "You can't imagine the master having a father?"

"I can't imagine the master having a birth," Belle replied. "I know I'm very simple to say such a thing, but you must admit that it is very difficult to think of the Beast as having had parents or a childhood! Did his father look just like him?"

"The master's current appearance is nothing like his father's."

"Did his father have horns, like he does?"

"No."

"Then what kind of beast was his father?"

"He wasn't a beast."

Belle paused in surprise. "The Beast's father…was not a beast?"

"Precisely."

"Are you playing with words?" Knowing Francoise's peculiar sense of humor, Belle was rather suspicious.

"I am not."

"Was the Beast's father a normal animal?"

"You could say so."

"You're not making sense," Belle huffed. "What kind of animal was he?"

"A human being, if you must know."

"That's impossible."

"It's very possible."

"Then…was the Beast's _mother_ some kind of animal?" Belle could not conceal her revulsion at the thought.

At these words, mirth spilled onto Francoise's withered face. "No," she said, chuckling. "She was also a human."

"That's impossible!" Belle nearly shouted.

"Why do you say so?"

"I say so because it is not possible for two human beings to produce a monster. Such things do not happen. I'm not so simple that I don't understand _that. _Please stop toying with me. I'm not an idiot."

"Perhaps not an idiot," Francoise replied. "But I swear I am not toying with you. If you really want to understand these things, why don't you go ask the master himself? I'm sure he'll satisfy your curiosity if you ask him about his lineage."

"Now you _are _toying with me. I can't go to the Beast," Belle whimpered, turning her head to gaze out into the forest once again. After a minute's silence, she sighed heavily. "I wish the bells would ring again. And I still want to go to church."

"Present your request to the master."

"I hate the master."

"You're a foolish girl."

**So that's that! Short chapter, very little forward momentum, but it helped me get back into the swing of things, and I hope to have a more satisfying chapter up very soon. Please leave a review with your feedback! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Once again, I apologize for the brevity of this chapter. I really would like to write longer chapters, and I know I could if I forced myself, but I always hit a certain point where I find myself saying, "Enough. Go post it." So...sorry. I'll try to make the next chapter a bit more full. I hope you like this one, though! It's your second glance at the Beast! **

**Huge thanks to the reviewers of chapter 4: Bellaroe and TiaArmanti. Really, thank you so much. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 5: **

"Answer me, Belle."

By now, Belle was accustomed to the Beast's horrid rasp, so she no longer trembled at every word he uttered. However, speaking to him was still nothing less than an ordeal. If only he wouldn't say her name.

"I'd rather not repeat my question. Answer me."

Belle lifted her gaze from her feet to the Beast's terrifying red eyes. What a hideous monster.

"Belle."

She couldn't ignore the threatening tone of his voice. Taking a deep breath, she replied in a quavering voice, "Yes. I did ask Francoise if I could attend the local church."

"I see," he said. He turned his shaggy head away and began to stare into the fire blazing in the hearth.

Belle squirmed on her uncomfortable wooden stool. Why wouldn't he just allow her to return to her chamber and sleep? He obviously had nothing to say to her. No matter what Francoise said about him or his parentage, Belle knew he was no more than a dumb, heartless, horrid beast.

"I'll allow you to attend church, if you really wish to," he unexpectedly said.

Belle froze, too startled to respond.

The Beast let out a rough snort of annoyance. "You may attend church," he repeated.

"I don't believe it," Belle breathed.

"That's because you think I'm nothing but an unfeeling animal," the Beast snarled. He sounded thoroughly disgusted. When Belle made no reply, he fixed his eyes on hers and demanded, "Don't you?"

Belle could see that he was near to exploding. This happened occasionally during their evening conversations. She knew by now that he would never actually harm her, but this didn't prevent dread from welling up inside her. "No," she hastily said, hoping to appease him. "I-I don't think that."

"Don't lie to me," he growled, rising up on his hind legs so that he loomed over the terrified girl.

"I didn't," she squeaked.

"Yes, you did!" he roared. He glared down at her, attempting to intimidate her into speaking truthfully. After a few moments, he snarled, set down his front legs, and began to stalk angrily about the room. "I'm growing weary of your imbecility," he snarled. "You're nothing but a shell of a girl. There's no substance in you."

"And you're nothing but a revolting monster," Belle muttered under her breath.

She hadn't intended for the Beast to hear her, but he did. "There it is!" he exclaimed. He sounded almost triumphant. "Anger. Well done. Long have I been waiting for you to show an emotion other than blank terror."

Belle stared at the Beast in complete bewilderment.

"Insult me again," he urged her. "If you won't, I'll take my turn and verbally abuse you until your ears bleed."

Belle had no response. She was too shocked to say anything.

"Very well, then," the Beast rumbled. Positioning himself so that he stood directly in front of Belle, he began to speak rapidly and with alarming vehemence. "You always say you're simple," he began, "and at the very least, I must give you credit for knowing yourself well. You're the most vapid girl I've ever seen. Whether I roar at you, reason with you, or simply remain silent, your face and posture stay the same. I can only conclude that you must be a halfwit.

"Though you may not have noticed (since my attempts are not always successful),l I've tried to control my temper when speaking with you. I thought kindness would unfreeze you, but now I believe my approach was completely wrong from the start. My first impression was that you were some sort of ice sculpture, but now I see that you're a mere block of wood. Unfeeling, unmoving, and entirely dumb."

"You're the unfeeling one!" Belle cried out, leaping to her feet. As soon as she realized what she had said, she regretted her words. She was half-convinced that the Beast would rip her apart for her insolence.

However, he was nodding his approval. "I don't deny it," he conceded. "I've never felt for anyone. I can't remember feeling anything except wrath, bitterness, and disgust. Yet I'd rather be eternally vicious than perpetually frightened."

His voice was dripping with derision, and the mockery fueled Belle's anger. "Stop talking," she snapped at him. "I hate your voice."

"You're improving," the Beast remarked. "You've felt both fear and anger in a single minute."

"Animal."

"That won't offend me anymore. I'd much rather be a full animal than a caricature of a human."

"I'm not a caricature."

"Perhaps not. Perhaps we're both animals. I'm a beast, while you're a timorous, bald rabbit."

"Stop it!" Belle demanded. She was so angry that tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes. "I'm tired of talking to you. Let me return to my room."

"As you wish." It almost looked as though the Beast was smirking at her, and he was emitting a peculiar rumbling sound that must have been laughter. "Incidentally, you're still permitted to attend church. However, you must enter after the service has begun and leave before it has concluded. Francoise will go with you."

"Thank you," Belle muttered before swiftly exiting the room and slamming the door behind her. The Beast's muffled laughter followed her down the hall.

The next morning, Belle awoke in a foul mood. She stomped down the hallway to the staircase, ready to treat Francoise abominably over breakfast. "I'm not a rabbit," she said bitterly as she made her way down the main staircase of the castle. She scowled at each step. A short distance from the base of the stairs, she raised her eyes and stopped in her tracks.

There was the Beast, just about to ascend the stairs. Belle's initial instinct was to cower before him, but, remembering their exchange of the night before, she took a deep breath and asked in what she hoped was a strong voice, "What do you want?"

The Beast snorted. "I'm glad your liveliness didn't float away in the night," he replied. "And I have no business with you at present." He swept past her and continued on his way.

Burning with curiosity, Belle stared after him. She had never before seen the Beast roaming the castle. He looked much smaller when not enclosed in the four walls of his antechamber.

As though sensing that he was being watched, he suddenly turned and looked down at his prisoner. "Why are you still here?" he asked.

She made no reply.

"Tell me your thoughts."

The direct command nearly caused Belle to run away in fear. However, she succeeded in standing her ground and holding the Beast's gaze. "N-No," she managed to stammer before turning and dashing for the safety of the kitchen.

"Well done, little rabbit!" the Beast called after her. His voice held equal parts mockery and approval.

**What do you think? I'm a bit nervous about this chapter, so I'd love any feedback you have, whether praise or criticism! **


	6. Chapter 6

**I want all of you to applaud me for blowing off important homework in order to write this chapter. **

**As usual, I'd like to thank all the amazing, amazing, amazing reviewers of the last chapter: Silverleaf of the Faerie, Bellaroe, Whiteling, and tinkerbelldetention101. Without you, I wouldn't bother to write, and instead of spending all afternoon on the computer, I would have had a productive day. (Really, in all seriousness, thank you so much for the reviews.) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 6: **

Belle gazed complacently into her bowl of soup. She had not been so close to contentment in a very long time. It was a dark Sunday evening, roughly a week and half after she had first dared to insult the Beast. She and Francoise were dining together in the kitchen, as was their custom. They sat on stools before the hearth, neither one speaking.

It had been a good day. Early in the morning, Belle and Francoise had left the castle to attend the local church. Since her arrival at the palace, Belle had not left the grounds, so she had nearly danced to the church service. Francoise had attempted to quell the girl's exuberance, but her efforts had come to naught. Belle's joy could not be restrained.

"You've calmed down since this morning," Francoise suddenly remarked, breaking the comfortable silence that had filled the room.

"I know," Belle said, smiling at the old woman.

"I was afraid you were going to start leaping for joy in the middle of the service."

Belle giggled, but shook her head. "The Beast said I had to go unnoticed. I wouldn't disobey his commands, no matter how badly I might have wanted to leap."

"You're still afraid of him."

"Not very afraid. I don't worry that he might hurt me anymore."

"He told you he wouldn't on the first day you met him," Francoise pointed out. Her voice was thick with exasperation.

"I know he did, but how was I to believe him? He was so big and frightening, and he always loomed over me as though he was going to…to…"

"Consume you in a single inhalation?" Francoise dryly suggested.

"Exactly!" Before Francoise could say anything else, Belle added, "I know it was foolish of me nonetheless."

"I'm glad you realize that." Francoise paused to spoon some soup into her mouth. When she had swallowed, she looked over at Belle and asked, "Were you and the master arguing last night?"

"You were listening?"

"I almost always listen." Francoise was unperturbed by the startled look on Belle's face.

"Oh. I see," Belle said with a disturbed frown. "No, we weren't really arguing. I just didn't understand what he was trying to tell me, and he became frustrated."

"What was he trying to tell you?"

"He had said that you told him about our conversation about his parents." Belle paused before asking, "Do you tell him everything?"

"Almost everything, yes," Francoise affirmed.

Belle frowned again, but continued with her narrative. "So, he brought up our conversation, and at first I was afraid he was offended that we'd been talking about him behind his back, but he didn't seem to be."

Francoise snorted as she set her empty bowl down on the floor. "Of course he wasn't offended. To talk about him and his family is to treat him like a human being. Nothing makes him happier than that."

"Why?"

"Ask him yourself," Francoise sharply replied. "Stop using me as a go-between."

"Sorry," Belle hastily apologized, placing her bowl on the floor next to Francoise's.

Francoise shook her head. "No matter. Continue your story."

Belle took a deep breath before continuing, "I asked him if you had told me the truth, and he said yes, you had. Then he asked me what I thought. I told him that I didn't think it was possible. That is, I didn't see how he could have had human parents. I asked if he was adopted, but he just laughed at me."

"Of course he did."

"Then he started to talk about the forest," Belle said, frowning as she recollected the Beast's words. "He kept referring to 'deep magic' and told me I'd encounter it very soon, or something like that, but it seemed that he was speaking in riddles, and I just didn't understand. He soon became annoyed and told me, 'Stretch your narrow mind. Stop thinking in a box. Don't be so dense.' He said that several times. Eventually, I also became frustrated. I asked him to speak more clearly, and he said I needed a brain that thought more clearly."

Francoise snickered at these words.

"It's not funny, Francoise!"

"Pardon me," Francoise said, still chuckling. "Having known the master since his infancy, I enjoy his way with words."

"That's terrible!" Belle exclaimed. "You shouldn't enjoy it. It's no wonder he says so many awful things with you encouraging him. I wish you both would stop insulting me all the time." Francoise's lack of sympathy was swiftly siphoning Belle's good mood away.

"I don't encourage the master to his face," Francoise said with a haughty sniff.

"Well," Belle continued after a brief pause, "that's why we argued last night. But it wasn't a very bad argument."

"Belle," the Beast's voice suddenly boomed from the entrance to the kitchen.

Belle nearly fell off her stool with fright. When she had gathered her wits, she twisted about to see the Beast. His black, shaggy bulk filled the doorway, and his red eyes roamed from one end of the kitchen to the other. He seemed curious, as though he had never before seen the room.

"Good evening, master," Francoise said, submissively bowing her head to him. Belle didn't understand how the old woman could react so calmly to the Beast's sudden appearance. Why had he come? He barely ever left his chambers. What could possibly be important enough to drive the Beast to the kitchen? Was there an emergency?

The Beast ignored Francoise's greeting. "Come with me, Belle," he commanded.

Belle obediently rose from her stool. "Why?" she asked as she cautiously approached the Beast.

He didn't reply immediately, but backed out of the room and into the hall. When Belle had followed, he silently ordered her to accompany him with a jerk of his head. As they were ascending the main staircase, he finally spoke.

"While you and Francoise were away, I searched the entire castle for something I wanted to show you."

This was unexpected. Burning with curiosity, Belle looked up at her horned companion. "What is it?"

"You'll see," the Beast roughly replied. "If I had wanted you to know right now, I would have already told you."

Chastened, Belle quickly looked away from him. She wished he wouldn't speak so heartlessly. Even when he was in a relatively good mood, he seemed incapable of uttering a kind word. Why couldn't he just say, "It's a surprise"? Her earlier happiness, already greatly reduced by Francoise's jibes, was continuing to evaporate at a startling rate.

They were now in the east wing of the palace. Belle knew very little of this area, since it was some distance from her chamber. It seemed much cleaner than the rest of the palace, as though someone scoured the floors on a regular basis. Belle was accustomed to a thin layer of grime on every surface, but here in the east wing, dust could only be found in the deepest corners.

"What are you thinking?" the Beast suddenly asked. When Belle failed to reply, he added mockingly, "Are you thinking at all?"

"Yes, I am," Belle replied, a little defensively. "I was marveling at how clean the east wing is."

The Beast snorted. "What mundane thoughts," he rumbled. "Vincent cleans this wing regularly."

"Vincent?" Belle repeated, completely confused.

"Francoise's nephew. Another servant."

That made sense. Belle only wondered why Francoise had never mentioned Vincent before. "Does he live here?"

"Most of the time."

Suddenly, the long, dark hallway opened up into a circular room, lit by an immense chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was no furniture, but the walls were covered with paintings. "The walls were bare until this morning," the Beast informed Belle. "I searched for the paintings while you were attending church. Vincent hung them."

"Why?" Belle was still immensely puzzled. She hadn't expected the Beast to show her an art gallery.

"Come this way," the Beast replied, jerking his head towards a set of portraits. His harsh voice sounded almost eager. He strode swiftly towards the paintings, looking over his shoulder to make sure Belle was following. He stopped abruptly when he reached the portrait of a middle-aged noble with a serious face. "My father," he stated before Belle could ask who the man was.

Belle didn't respond. She was too shocked to speak. For a full minute, she simply gazed at the portrait. After a while, her eyes drifted to the adjacent painting, which depicted a slender, dark-haired noblewoman. "Your mother?" she quietly asked.

The Beast grunted.

"She's beautiful," Belle murmured.

"You sound surprised," he rumbled.

Belle made no reply.

They stood in silence for a few more minutes. Suddenly, the Beast growled, "Stop lurking in the corridor, Vincent. Come in."

Belle turned to see a pale-faced man emerge from the shadows of the hallway. He was fairly tall and looked strong, though he hunched over a bit. Belle guessed he was about thirty years old. Although he nodded to Belle and bowed to the Beast, he did not speak.

"This is Belle," the Beast said, gesturing to the girl with one of his massive paws.

Vincent nodded and gave her a half-smile. The Beast, apparently having nothing more to say to the man, turned back to the portraits. Belle surreptitiously watched him as he surveyed the paintings with his keen red eyes. Although she couldn't quite tell, she thought he looked a bit sad. Or perhaps he was just angry again. It was quite possible that either she or Vincent had unwittingly done something to annoy him.

Finally, she decided she ought to say something. "Thank you for showing me these portraits," she quietly said. He must have very badly wanted her to see them, she reasoned, or else he never would have fetched her from the kitchen. She felt that a polite expression of gratitude for his troubles was required, if for no other reason than to appease him.

The Beast made a strange noise in his throat, but said nothing. After a few more silent minutes, he growled and turned away from the paintings. "Now you've seen them," he said as he stomped back to the hallway.

Both Belle and Vincent, who had remained standing in the middle of the room, watched the Beast depart. Vincent glanced awkwardly at Belle, then followed his master, leaving Belle alone in the room of paintings. After several seconds of solitude, she began to feel uncomfortable under the stern gazes of the Beast's parents. She soon left the gallery, completely bewildered.

It took a very long time for Belle to wind her way out of the east wing. The halls were dark, she was unaccustomed to the region of the palace, and her busy thoughts were slowing her down. The Beast's behavior had been very strange; from his appearance in the kitchen to the fact that he had created an art gallery, he had not been acting like himself. Moreover, Belle was slightly troubled to think that, although Vincent had been living in the palace since her arrival, she had neither seen nor heard him - nor heard of him, for that matter - until now.

She passed the Beast as she crossed the landing of the main staircase. Oddly enough, he was sitting at the foot of the stairs, evidently deep in thought. As Belle scurried across the floor, hoping to go unnoticed and wondering why on earth the Beast was there, he lifted his shaggy head and asked in a low voice, "Did you look at the other paintings?"

Belle froze. Had he expected her to look at the other paintings? "N-No," she timidly replied, praying that he would not be too angry with her. "Would you like me to?"

Rising, the Beast shook his head. "If you wish it," he said, still keeping his voice at a strangely soft volume. "Don't be afraid of Vincent," he added, before swiftly striding away.

Belle remained still until his heavy footsteps could no longer be heard. Sighing in confusion and frustration, she continued on to her chamber. She felt that she would never understand the ways of the Beast or his bizarre household.

**Weeell...what do you think? I have great plans for Vincent! **


	7. Chapter 7

**You know that awkward time when you've submitted a paper proposal but still haven't heard back from your professor so you aren't really sure whether or not you should keep working? Well, that's where I am now, so I figured it was a good time to finish, edit, and post this chapter! **

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to the reviewers of the previous chapter: tinkerbelldetention101, Silverleaf of the Faerie, Bellaroe, and Bloody Phantom. Without you guys, I probably wouldn't have enough motivation to keep writing. I'd also like to thank everyone who has this story on alert and is reading along! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

**Chapter 7:**

Belle crept through the east wing of the palace. It was morning, and outside the palace, the birds of early spring were frolicking in the sun, announcing the final days of winter. Inside, however, all was dark, and Belle could hear nothing of the birds' raucous jubilation.

She stifled a yawn. She had slept very little that night. After meeting the Beast at the foot of the stairs, she had gone directly to her room and climbed into bed, but she couldn't clear her mind enough to fall asleep. Every time slumber began to gently carry her off, a new question would spring into her mind, and she would regretfully float back into consciousness. Now she was suffering the ill effects of her insomnia.

Suddenly, Belle slipped on a wet patch. She bit back a squeal as she landed hard on her tailbone. For a while, she remained on the cold stone floor, her face screwed up in pain. Then, rising gingerly, she continued on her way. She had only taken a few more steps when a door to her right flew open.

This time, Belle could not hold in her scream, and she shrank back against the opposite wall. Vincent, a bucket in his left hand and a mop in his right, stared down at her with startled eyes. He opened his mouth as though about to speak, then immediately clamped it shut.

When Belle's heart had ceased pounding a bruise into her chest, she peeled herself off the wall and emitted an awkward giggle. "S-Sorry," she said. "I thought I could sneak through the east wing without disturbing you."

"Disturbing? No," Vincent hastily said. His voice was very deep, and he spoke much more loudly than was normal. After uttering these two words, he lowered his eyes to his feet.

Surprised by the man's sudden outburst, Belle could only stare at him. After a few seconds, he glanced back up at her, gave her a half-smile, and swiftly returned his gaze to the damp floor.

Belle felt sorry for him, so she spoke as warmly and gently as possible. "I just wanted to see the portrait room again," she explained. "It's at the end of this hall, isn't it?"

Vincent only nodded, then raised his bucket and mop and shrugged apologetically. Once again, it seemed as though he wanted to say something, but his mouth stubbornly remained shut.

"Oh, yes, I suppose you need to work," Belle said awkwardly. "Goodbye, then."

As she turned away, Vincent gave her a small wave before setting his bucket on the floor and continuing with his work. Belle walked down the hall as rapidly as she could, eager to escape his presence. He seemed like a very nice person, but he made her exceedingly uncomfortable.

Fortunately, the chandelier in the portrait gallery was lit. Though it shed imperfect light on the room's paintings, it was better than nothing. Belle walked to the portraits of the nobles whom the Beast had claimed as his parents. After several seconds of silent gazing, she sighed and shook her head. It was nonsense.

Curious about the other paintings, Belle took a few steps to the right to look at a portrait of another middle-aged noble. This man bore a strong resemblance to the Beast's so-called father, and Belle guessed they were brothers or cousins. The next several paintings all depicted noblewomen of varying degrees of beauty. Belle kept taking slow steps to her right, stopping at each portrait to peer intently at the depicted person. If the Beast was to be believed, they were probably all related to him. It had to be nonsense.

There were so many paintings. Men, women, old, young, beautiful, and ugly. There were even a few group portraits. Belle grew very excited when she discovered one depicting both the Beast's parents. In the mother's arms was a solemn-faced baby, dressed in rich attire. The Beast? No, that was utter nonsense.

Belle's eyes wandered to the adjacent portrait, then widened in shock. The painting contained a young woman with a small, smiling boy who could be none other than Vincent. He looked ecstatic, but the woman – his mother, Belle supposed – seemed miserable. The juxtaposition of joy and desolation was peculiar, and Belle found herself unable to look away.

She heard a knocking sound behind her, and she whirled around to see Vincent standing in the hall just beyond the portrait room. He was tapping the wall with the handle of his mop, apparently requesting permission to enter. When her eyes met his, he whipped his gaze to the floor.

"Come in," Belle said in what she hoped was a comforting voice.

Vincent looked up at her, his face stretching into its shy half-smile, and stepped across the room in a few long strides. He stood beside Belle and silently regarded the portrait which had so captivated her. After a while, his eyes drifted to the painting of the Beast's alleged parents and their child, and his face fell.

"The Beast says that these are his parents," Belle said, hoping to get some answers from her strange companion.

Vincent looked at her with a puzzled expression. "The Beast?" he repeated.

"The master, I mean. I really shouldn't call him the Beast, I suppose; it's very rude, isn't it?"

The bewilderment didn't leave Vincent's face.

Now Belle was extremely confused. "You know who he is. He was here just last night."

Understanding illuminated Vincent's features, and he nodded. "Yes, yes," he said. He looked back at the painting and nodded again. "Yes, that's him."

"The baby?"

Yet another nod.

"No."

Vincent seemed bemused by her disbelief. He merely shrugged and continued to survey the painting.

"Why do you say that the baby is the master?" Belle curiously asked.

Vincent crossed his strong arms in front of his chest and sighed heavily. "Because it is," he said. After a brief pause, he chuckled. "Master. Very strange."

Belle thought he was missing the point. "How did a human baby become a beast?"

At this question, Vincent once again dropped his eyes to the floor. "My fault, really," he mumbled.

"That can't possibly be true," Belle said, smiling gently at the man.

"It's true," he insisted, still staring intently at the floor. His voice was growing thick with emotion. "Terrible. From human to beast. And it's my fault."

"I don't believe that."

Without warning, Vincent took a rapid step backwards and stood up straight. Belle almost too surprised to notice how much taller he was when he didn't hunch over. "What's true is true," he loudly declared before turning about and striding out of the room, leaving Belle stunned.

She was surprised to feel anger surging up inside her. Although she wasn't quite sure who she was angry at, she found herself stomping out of the portrait gallery in complete rage. She passed Vincent in the hall, still diligently mopping the floor. Impaling him with a savage glare, she stalked by, only barely aware of his astonished eyes following her as she went.

Down the stairs she went, her feet falling heavily upon the stone steps. Without thinking, she ran to the Beast's door and began pounding on the wood. Almost immediately, the door flew open, and Belle found herself staring up at the Beast.

"What is it?" he demanded, a hint of alarm in his rasp.

"I'm so angry I could scream," Belle said, scowling up at him. "I was just talking to Vincent."

"Surely he didn't offend you," the Beast snorted.

"You used to be a human?"

Hearing this, the Beast threw back his head and rolled his terrible red eyes. "You finally want answers? A bit of information to stuff into your brain?"

"Yes. Now give it to me."

"Listen to yourself," the Beast snarled. "This palace has succeeded in stripping you of all your gentleness and femininity. How do you feel about that?"

"Angry. I feel angry about everything."

"Then come in. Lay your grievances before me." Unexpectedly, the Beast stepped back and beckoned for Belle to enter his chambers.

She eyed him suspiciously as she stepped into the antechamber and took her usual place on the low stool by the hearth. He had responded far too favorably to her rage.

"Speak," he ordered her, dropping back onto his hind legs and regarding her with a steady gaze.

Belle thought she detected a challenge in his fearsome eyes, and she decided to rise to it. "I suppose I'm to believe that you used to be a man," she began.

"What you're supposed to believe is of no importance," the Beast roughly interrupted. "What _do_ you believe?"

Taken aback by the blunt question, Belle hesitated. She wished the Beast would stop looking at her so seriously. Perhaps she should have thought a little more before demanding to speak with him. She was on the brink of asking to be excused when she noticed that the Beast's usual expression of mockery was creeping onto his face. She couldn't bear that.

"I believe you used to be a man."

All traces of derision abruptly vanished from the Beast's face. He leaned back a bit, looked down at Belle with a blank expression, and asked, "And what of it?"

Belle had no idea how to answer this question, so she decided to pursue her own curiosity. "Why does Vincent think it's his fault?"

"He's a foolish man."

"So it's not his fault?"

"Of course not."

"But why does he think otherwise?"

"Because he's a foolish man!" The Beast seemed to be getting irritated, and his obstinate refusal to properly answer Belle's question caused her temper to flare, as well.

"I'd like you to answer my question," she said in a loud voice.

"I'll answer any other questions you have, so long as they do not concern Vincent," the Beast replied with a growl.

"By saying that, you make me much more curious about him."

"So be it."

The Beast obviously would not be swayed. Extremely annoyed, Belle turned away from him and stared sullenly into the fire. It was then that the implications of her statement of belief struck her, and after a few silent minutes, she looked back at the Beast with a gentler expression.

"I'm sorry for all the times I called you an animal," she said.

The Beast made no reply.

"Do you hate being…what you are?"

"Yes."

He answered so quickly and roughly that Belle was quite taken aback. After a few seconds' hesitation, she asked, "Can it be fixed?"

The Beast shifted his weight from one side to the other as though the question made him uncomfortable. "It won't be," he finally replied in a low voice.

"But it could be."

"It won't be," he repeated more loudly, and he glared at her with an expression that clearly forbade her from trying to give him hope.

Although intimidated, Belle could not stop asking questions. "How long has it been?"

"Five years." His answer was barely audible. After a brief pause, he growled, turned to stare into the fire, and said, "It's time for you to leave."

Belle obediently rose to depart, but she hesitated at the door, looking back at the Beast's hunched form with mixed feelings of pity and revulsion. "I need something to call you. Some name or title. If you used to be a man, I can't call you a…a…"

"Beast? No, that name suffices," he rumbled. "There's nothing more suitable at the present time."

Belle took a step out the door, but one final question occurred to her, and she turned around to ask, "Why do you keep me here?"

"In the hopes that someday you'll no longer be useless."

Offended at the brusque reply, Belle slammed the door behind her.

**What do you think? Good? Bad? I'm really eager to hear your opinions!**


	8. Chapter 8

**At long last, here's the next chapter! I've really got to stop with these ridiculous delays. I'm very sorry for that. I'm going to try to be better about updating regularly. **

**Most importantly, I need to thank the reviewers of the previous chapter: Bloody Phantom and Bellaroe. As I've said before, your encouragement is what keeps me writing. I really can't thank you enough! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

**Chapter 8:**

"Eavesdropping is wrong."

Belle bit back a scream, then whirled around to glare at the tall, pale man who had so rudely startled her. "Hush, Vincent!" she hissed at him. "You mustn't make a sound."

Abashed, Vincent mumbled an apology and did as he was told. After a minute or so, he imitated Belle and pressed his ear against the wooden door which muffled the conversation in the room within.

"Don't shove," Belle admonished him, adjusting her position so that they could both be more comfortable sharing the door.

"I thought you'd be happy now that she knows everything," Francoise was saying in a voice of exasperation. "I know Vincent is happy that he can once again walk freely throughout the castle. He hated being hidden away in the east wing, though he'd never say so."

In the hall, Belle looked up at Vincent with a compassionate expression. "Did you hate it?" she asked.

He nodded mutely.

"Besides," Francoise continued from behind the door, "you need him to be happy."

"Not necessarily," the Beast rumbled.

"I've said it from the beginning. Everything depends on Vincent," the old woman insisted.

"That's complete nonsense!" the Beast snapped. Belle knew the expression his face wore when he snarled like that, and the thought of it made her shudder.

Puzzled by the conversation, she turned to Vincent. "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"

"Not at all," Vincent quietly replied. His face showed nothing but confusion.

"Nor do I, but I think Francoise is probably right. She tends to be." With that, Belle returned to her eavesdropping.

Evidently Francoise had asked another irritating question, for the Beast was growling in frustration.

"Growling won't help anything," Francoise said sharply.

"I wish you'd leave," the Beast grumbled in an uncharacteristically petulant voice. "I am your master, and you are being insolent."

"I apologize for my forwardness. I'm only speaking bluntly because I am concerned for you. You're squandering what may be your only chance."

"She must mean his chance to become human again," Belle surmised. "What do think, Vincent?"

"Probably," he mumbled.

"It's none of your concern," the Beast was snarling. Belle could hear him stomping angrily around the room. Suddenly he stopped and, after a long silence, emitted a heavy sigh. "I don't know what to do," he said in a low voice. His hopeless tone went straight to Belle's heart. A wave of pity rose up inside her. Surely there was something she could do to help him.

"Well, what do you think?" Francoise asked.

"About what?"

"Anything."

"Don't be ridiculous. Give me a subject."

"Belle."

"She's useless."

Belle rolled her eyes. She had heard the Beast apply that adjective to her so many times that it no longer offended her in the slightest. Oddly enough, the more she heard it, the less she believed it. She didn't think she was useless at all, and she didn't think the Beast really believed she was, either. She just needed to find her use.

Apparently Francoise was similarly unconvinced. "Master, you mustn't give me such silly answers," she told him.

The Beast began pacing again. "Let me amend my response, then," he snapped. "She has no use that could possibly be of any benefit to me."

"But you clearly don't believe that to be true, because you've kept her here."

"I keep her here because she suffers being away from her family, and I enjoy seeing people suffer," the Beast replied, but he didn't sound particularly sure of himself, and Francoise merely laughed at him.

"Do you like her?"

"No."

"That's also false. But if you insist on it being true, then you need to release her from this prison. If you hate her and she's truly useless, let her return to her family. Don't keep her here out of spite. If you've resigned yourself to withering away in despair, so be it, but don't make Belle share the same fate." She paused for a brief moment, then added, "Spare Vincent, as well. He deserves to live a full life after all he's suffered."

"A plague on both of them!" the Beast snarled. "Lately they've been as thick as thieves. I can smell them outside the door right now, eavesdropping on our every word."

Both Belle and Vincent stiffened in surprise. Inwardly, Belle was berating herself for her idiocy. Of course the Beast would be able to smell them. She should have known that. "I guess we'd better announce ourselves," she sighed. She timidly knocked on the door.

"Enter," the Beast rumbled. Much to Belle's relief, his voice held amusement rather than anger.

Vincent entered the Beast's chambers with his eyes fixed firmly on the stone floor. Belle, on the other hand, gave the Beast a guilty grin as she came before him. "It's impossible to fool you," she said, laughing nervously.

"And yet you try," the Beast replied. "Did you hear anything interesting?"

Belle nodded vigorously. "Yes, many things, but I know you'll only become grumpy if I start asking questions, so I won't pester you."

The Beast turned to Francoise with an exasperated expression. "This girl thinks she knows everything about me," he grumbled. Francoise snorted in amusement.

"Oh, I just realized that there's one little thing I'd like to say," Belle suddenly spoke up.

The Beast did not move, but shifted his eyes to look down at the girl. "What?"

"Please don't become annoyed," she said as an introduction.

"I'll try."

That was not particularly reassuring, but Belle pressed on anyways. "I heard Francoise saying that you should try to make Vincent happy, and I agree." She paused before adding, "That's all."

Hearing this, the Beast snorted. "Thank you for your advice," he said sarcastically. Glaring down at Vincent, he asked, "What do you have to say, Vincent? Are you unhappy?"

Vincent refused to raise his eyes, but he shook his head.

"You're intimidating him. Of course he's not going to complain," Belle pointed out. "But just because someone won't speak up doesn't mean that you shouldn't try to make him comfortable and happy."

Once again, the Beast growled, and Belle braced herself for one of their arguments. Francoise, sensing a quarrel brewing, took Vincent by the arm and led him out of the room. "Come, Vincent, I need your help in the kitchen," she quietly said to him as they left. Before she closed the door behind her, she gave a look of warning to Belle and the Beast. "Control your tempers," her face said.

The door closed, and a think silence fell between Belle and the Beast. After a minute or so, the Beast sighed and muttered, "I'm tired of our confrontations."

"They're extremely tiring," Belle agreed. "We need not have them, you know. We could talk reasonably with one another."

The Beast snorted derisively at these words. "You, talk reasonably?" he said.

"Yes," Belle insisted. "You're not the only one in this room with a brain."

"Whatever brain you have has only developed since you came to live in my home," the Beast replied.

"Maybe," Belle admitted. She went to the corner of the room and pulled her usual stool into the center of the room. The Beast watched as she sat and stretched out her legs. After another long silence, she looked up and asked, "Will you please tell me Vincent's story?" The Beast didn't immediately reply, so she added, "It doesn't make any sense to keep secrets from me. If you'd rather not talk about it, would you have Francoise tell me?"

"Francoise may give you the wrong version."

"Then I suppose you will have to tell me."

The Beast bowed his head. "I suppose so," he slowly said. So suddenly that it made Belle jump, he jerked his head upwards again. "Let's go outside."

Belle leapt to her feet as the Beast threw open the door. "Why outside?" she asked, struggling to keep up with the Beast's rapid pace down the hall.

"I haven't been outside in weeks," the Beast replied as he trotted up the stairs to the castle's entrance hall.

"Oh," Belle intoned, still confused as to his sudden desire to be out of doors.

She could see his powerful muscles working under his hair as he opened the castle's massive front doors. She had never before used this entrance; Francoise had told her many times that she could only enter and exit through the castle's side entrances.

The Beast charged onwards, leaving Belle blinded in his wake. The sudden stream of sunlight into the castle had rendered her temporarily disabled. Once she had recovered her sight, she stepped through the immense doorway into the fresh, early spring air.

"Belle, this way!" the Beast's voice called out.

Belle followed the voice to the side of the castle, where she found the Beast standing beside the rosebush which had made her his prisoner. He was panting and looked much more alive than she had ever seen him before. He also looked extremely sad.

"This rosebush is enchanted, as I'm sure you already know," he informed her as she approached.

"Yes, I did know that," Belle replied. She hesitated briefly before asking, "How did it come to be enchanted?"

"That's what I'm going to tell you," the Beast said, regarding the rosebush with stony expression. "Vincent is a central character in the story."

Belle said nothing, but simply waited for the Beast to begin his tale. At last, he said, "It may surprise you to hear that Vincent and I are half-brothers."

It did indeed surprise Belle, more than anything she had ever before heard. She contained her shock, however, and simply gazed up at the Beast with a serious expression that demanded an explanation.

"Vincent's mother, Francoise's younger sister, was my father's mistress. Her name was Marie. Vincent was born five years before me. When I was born, my father decided that Vincent and I should be raised together so that I would have a playmate. Needless to say, both our mothers were unhappy with this situation. My mother wanted Marie to be thrown out of the castle."

"What did Marie want?" Belle quietly asked.

The Belle shifted uncomfortably at this question. "I believe she would have liked to leave so that she could raise her son in peace. But my father kept her here, and Vincent and I grew up together. After a while, when Vincent was about twelve years old, my mother decided that she couldn't bear to have him treated as my equal any longer, so she sent him to the servants' quarters. He's never thought of himself as my inferior, though."

"Yes, he once laughed when I referred to you as the 'master,'" Belle murmured.

"My mother always considered him a lowly servant and treated him accordingly, but at the same time, my father treated him as a son. When I grew older, I began to notice this discrepancy. I made Francoise explain it to me. Once I understood the situation, I immediately took my mother's side and turned on Vincent. I blamed Marie for stealing my father's love from my mother, and I accused Vincent of stealing my father's love from me.

"When I was perhaps fifteen years old, Vincent confronted me about my changed behavior towards him. We fought, and afterwards, I went to my father with a bloodied face and told him that I hated him and Vincent. I demanded that Vincent be treated only as a servant, and I ordered my father to send Marie away from the castle.

"He refused, but I raged at him, cursing his name and insisting that I would find some way to take revenge on him if he didn't do as I said. I think I frightened him." The Beast sounded curiously proud of himself as he said this. "At last, he agreed to obey me. After that, I developed a habit of overriding my father's wishes. My mother often tried to stop me, saying that I needed to respect my father, but I ignored her. She died soon enough of illness. It was a tragedy, but not wholly unexpected. She had borne me fairly late in life, so she was far from being young.

"After her death, I continued to dominate my father. Eventually, he decided to abdicate his ruling powers to me. He wanted to live in peace somewhere where I wouldn't trouble him. So he left. He tried to take Vincent with him, but I wouldn't allow it."

"Why not?" Belle asked.

The Beast shrugged his massive shoulders. "I suppose I didn't want him or Vincent to be happy. It doesn't matter now; my father died alone two years ago. But after he left, for the next several years, I continued to abuse Vincent. Now that my father was gone, Vincent was entirely friendless, since his position as an illegitimate son meant that he could never fit in with the other servants. Francoise kept him company as best she could, I suppose."

"But she's not very tender or loving," Belle pointed out.

"Precisely," the Beast agreed. "Thus, Vincent still felt alone. Although we had been raised together, he now became terrified of me, as did everyone else. I admit that I should not have treated him as I did. I took great delight in making him labor twice as hard as everyone else. I especially enjoyed abusing his emotions, pointing out how friendless he was and making a mockery of him."

Seeing a tear roll down Belle's cheek, the Beast paused briefly before resuming his story. "Five years ago, on a cold winter evening, a hideous old woman came to the door of the castle and asked if she could spend the night. I said no, she could not. She offered me a rose in exchange for a room. It was a laughable offer, and I turned it down. She left, and I thought no more of her.

"The next morning, one of the servants informed me that Vincent had snuck her into the castle and given her a place to sleep. I was furious that he had subverted my decision, and I stormed to his room, eager to punish both him and the old woman. He tried to hide the woman, but I quickly found her and ordered them both to be put in chains. It was then that the woman transformed into a majestic and beautiful fairy."

The Beast halted his story, trying to see what effect it was having on Belle. She remained solemn and silent, so the Beast continued, "The fairy told me that I was to be punished for my cruelty. She said, 'Not only do you refuse to practice kindness, but you will not allow it to be practiced under your roof. You give your contempt to those who most deserve your compassion. Your handsome face hides a beast's heart. But no longer will that be so.' She changed me into this form."

Once again, the Beast stopped speaking. He was breathing heavily, and Belle could see that the painful memory was upsetting him. However, she still remained quiet, and her eyes willed him to finish his tale.

He took a deep breath and said, "She disappeared after her magic had taken its effect, leaving this rosebush outside the castle as a mark of her enchantment. Vincent understood exactly what had occurred, and he tried to calm me. However, I roared at him and told him that it was his fault. If he hadn't disobeyed me, nothing would have happened. I told him this repeatedly until he believed me. After I had vented my anger, I ordered him to bring Francoise to me.

"She took charge of the situation, telling the other servants and all my vassals that I had been called away by the king to lead his troops in the Holy Crusade. One by one, the servants left the castle to find employment elsewhere. When only Francoise and Vincent remained, I emerged from hiding. The three of us have lived here ever since."

With the story completed, a heavy silence fell between the Beast and his prisoner. The Beast stood as though awaiting judgment, while Belle could not bring herself to speak. After several long minutes during which the only sound was the whistling of the wind through the trees, she reached out and patted the Beast's hairy side.

"That's an awful story," she murmured. "I understand why you didn't want me to hear it."

The Beast nodded. He and Belle returned to the castle in silence.

**So this chapter was kind of heavy. What do you think of it? **


	9. Chapter 9

**After another unnecessarily long delay, here's chapter 9. As usual, the first order of business is to thank all the wonderful people who reviewed the previous chapter: Bloody Phantom, Bottled Sunshine, Bellaroe, and WriterGirl1472. You guys really are my main source of motivation. Extra thanks to Bellaroe and Bloody Phantom for their repeated encouragement! (Bellaroe, I'm never able to reply to your reviews, but I really do appreciate them. Thanks so much!) **

**Alright, here we go! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

**Chapter 9:**

Walking, walking, walking. Setting down one foot after another. Around the castle Belle went, again and again and yet again. She figured if she walked long enough, her mind would clear and she'd be able to think properly. But every time she passed the enchanted rosebush with its eternal blooms, confusion and fear assailed her as strongly as ever before.

The day had started out normally enough. Belle had gone down to the kitchen for breakfast, as always. Francoise and Vincent were already there. As the three of them ate, Francoise had noted that Belle was being very quiet.

"Yesterday the Beast told me how he came to be enchanted," Belle explained, solemnly stirring the porridge in her bowl.

Startled, Vincent had stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief. "Surely not," he said.

"What did he tell you?" Francoise asked, her eyes narrowing in doubt.

Belle took a deep breath before replying, "He told me the entire story. From Vincent's birth to the day the enchantress came to the castle."

Vincent and Francoise stared at her for a few long seconds, then Francoise began to chuckle. "I'm impressed, Belle," she said. "You're taking it extremely well."

"It was an awful story, but it mostly just answered many questions that have been stirring in my mind for the past few months," Belle replied. "I guess I seem very weak and stupid, so you might have expected me to be more shocked than I really was…" She shrugged and gave Francoise a wry smile.

Francoise returned the smile and continued eating her breakfast. After a few minutes, she remarked, "Well, I'm glad you finally know why you're here. I'll no longer feel as though I'm treading on eggshells whenever I speak with you."

"Why I'm here?" Belle blankly repeated. "I learned why _you're_ here. What do I have to do with anything?"

After an awkward pause, Vincent made an odd noise in his throat and looked to Francoise with raised eyebrows. "He didn't tell her everything," he remarked in a low voice.

"I know," Francoise sighed. She looked back to Belle, who was frowning in confusion, and quietly asked, "Did the master tell you what the enchantress said to him?"

Belle nodded. "Yes. She told him, 'You neither practice kindness nor allow it to be practiced. You scorn people who deserve your compassion. I will make your face match your beastly heart.'" Belle was rather proud of her paraphrase. She thought it had a lyrical ring to it.

Francoise, however, was scowling. "The master can be so cowardly," she hissed to Vincent.

The man made no reply, but nodded his agreement.

"Well," Francoise said briskly, "I will have to say what he would not."

"What's that?" Belle asked. She could hardly contain her curiosity. "You said it has something to do with me?"

Francoise began her reply in a slow, measured voice. "Belle, the enchantress who turned the master into what he currently gave him instructions on how to break the spell she had laid upon him."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Belle exclaimed. "He seems to think there's no way for him to become human again. He should have listened more closely to the enchantress." She set her empty bowl upon the stone floor, rested her elbows on her knees, and leaned forward so that her face was supported in her hands.

Francoise barked out a humorless laugh. "Believe me, he listened closely enough. Would you care to know what instructions the enchantress gave him?"

"Yes, of course I would."

"She told him," Francoise said in her most solemn voice, "that in order to become a human again, he had to learn kindness."

"That makes sense," Belle said approvingly.

"As proof of this, he would have to fall in love…and be fallen in love with in return."

Belle frowned as she tried to comprehend the implications of Francoise's words. "So love is the key to everything?"

"Yes," Vincent affirmed.

"But how could the enchantress expect any woman to fall in love with a…monster?"

"That's what you're here for," Francoise bluntly told her.

Belle immediately leapt to her feet, knocking over her stool with a loud clatter. She looked wildly between Vincent and Francoise, expecting one of them to announce that they'd been joking. But neither said a word. "Stop treating me like an idiot," she growled at them.

"We're not," Francoise replied. "In fact, this is one of the first times I haven't."

For several seconds, Belle opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying to find a response. At last, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen. She tore through the halls of the castle, into the entranceway, out the great doors, and into the courtyard. She dashed across the muddy courtyard and grabbed hold of the metal bars of the gate. The gate was locked, of course. There was no way out. Climbing? No, that wasn't possible.

Thus she had come to her present state. Walking, walking, walking. She could think of nothing to do except walk. Her father had always said that walking cleared his mind.

Oh, no. The thought of her dear father caused tears to well up in her eyes. She missed him. She needed him. She need her whole family. Surely her brothers would rescue her. Laurent would never allow her to become the bride of a beast.

There was the rosebush again. How many times had she circled the castle? Too many to count, and still she couldn't shake her bewilderment and fear. Maybe Vincent would help her escape. No, that was no good. Vincent felt responsible for the Beast's condition. He would never do something to stop the Beast from becoming human again.

A sudden thought struck Belle, and she barely kept herself from stumbling into the muddy spring soil. If the Beast were still a man, would things be better? Well, yes, of course they would. The entire affair would be far less disturbing. But still, Belle wouldn't be able to fall in love with him. He was ill-tempered. He was cruel. He was horrid.

He was standing before her.

Belle stopped in her tracks, staring up at the Beast with an expression of panic. For his part, the Beast looked far more timid than Belle had ever seen him. His eyes were those of a dog awaiting a beating.

"Francoise told you everything," he said in a low, miserable voice.

"You should have told me much earlier," Belle replied, trying to keep her own voice from quavering. "Why didn't you?"

"I knew you'd be repulsed."

"You should have told me anyways."

"I'm sorry."

Never before had he sounded so sincere. It was terrifying. Belle instinctively took a step backwards, and she whipped her eyes to the ground. The Beast was waiting for her to speak, but she was determined to remain silent. She would not acknowledge his apology, because it changed nothing. However sorry the Beast felt, he would still do what he wanted and keep Belle as his prisoner.

"Look at me."

She wouldn't.

"Fear used to keep your eyes on the ground. Has stubborn anger become fear's replacement?"

No, no, no. She would not speak to him.

"Are you so very disgusted at the thought?"

Belle snorted, and she raised her eyes to his with a joyless half-smile. "You're not going to specify what thought?" she asked, mimicking his usual mocking tone.

Only after a long, embarrassed pause could the Beast produce his next words. "The thought of loving me. It disgusts you."

"Yes," Belle bluntly replied. When she saw the pain that immediately sprang into the Beast's eyes, she almost wished she had spoken more gently.

"I'm sorry," the Beast said for the second time. Once again he waited for Belle to reply. Once again she would not. The longer the silence between them lasted, the more his expression transformed. Vulnerability was replaced by steely anger. "Well," he growled, turning away from the girl, "it doesn't matter. You still belong to me."

As Belle watched him stomp away through the mud of the castle grounds, she found herself assailed by sudden curiosity. She had to ask him one more question. "Wait!" she called after him.

"What?" he snarled over his shoulder.

"Didn't the enchantress say you also have to fall in love?"

He hesitated for a brief moment before replying, "She did."

"Well…" Belle hadn't expected asking this question to be quite so difficult. "Have you?"

"No," he quickly and harshly answered. He moved to leave, but suddenly jerked to a stop as though glued to the earth. After another long pause, he added, "But I'm trying." With those words, he bounded out of sight.

Belle still didn't know what to think. She stood alone in the courtyard for quite some time, ignoring the warm sun on her face and the cheerful songs of the forest birds. For her, there was nothing but confused misery, anger, and for some bizarre reason, remorse. Finally, she turned and trudged back indoors. "I wouldn't have minded being friends with him," she murmured as she stepped into the entryway of the castle. The great doors behind her slowly swung shut, and all natural light was cut off.

**Thoughts? Comments? Criticisms? **


	10. Chapter 10

**As always, I must beg your forgiveness for my abominable tardiness in updating. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter. It's been pieced together over a rather long period of time, so I'm really not sure how well it's turned out. You'll have to let me know what you think! **

**MANY thanks to the reviewers of the previous chapter: Bellaroe, MysteryWriter14, WriterGirl1472, Hayden Avery, and Akora. There's no way I'd keep updating without your support, so I can't tell you how much I appreciate your comments!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 10:**

The songbirds were belting out their most beautiful melodies, the delicate flowers of early spring were unveiling their petals to the world, yet Belle was oblivious. Her narrowed eyes were for the Beast alone. What was he playing at?

The Beast was nothing if not perceptive. He immediately noticed her suspicious gaze and hurried to address it. "Is something wrong?" he asked as he trotted nearer to her.

"I'm not quite sure," she replied, peering up at him from her seat on the castle steps.

"Lately, you've seemed very distrustful. Am I reading you incorrectly?"

"No, you're right." Belle paused and looked keenly into the Beast's red eyes. "You've been kinder to me lately." The Beast made no immediate reply, so she continued, "Take our present conversation as an example. Before, you would never have asked me if something was wrong. You would have said, 'Tell me your thoughts.' Then, when I told you, you would have mocked me."

"Not if your thoughts were intelligent."

"You never think my thoughts are intelligent."

"You portray me in a very harsh light."

"Because that's what you are. Harsh. At least, you used to be. Now you seem much less so, and the change confuses me."

The Beast looked at her very seriously and asked, "When did the change begin?"

Despite the small shiver that passed through her, Belle steadily returned the Beast's gaze. "Perhaps two weeks ago."

It had actually been three weeks ago, but Belle didn't want to allude too obviously to the terrible conversation that had exposed everything the Beast was trying to attain. Only a few days afterwards, the Beast's behavior had started to change. Knowing it was merely a ruse, Belle had ignored it. She thought the Beast would grow impatient and drop the façade soon enough. Yet he had not.

They were still looking at one another. Belle was beginning to quail under the intensity of the Beast's gaze, and at last she lowered her eyes. She picked up a twig near her feet and began to prod at the earth. If only she had the courage to tell the Beast that she knew exactly what he was trying to do. He certainly knew that she knew, so she didn't really need to tell him. Nevertheless, she felt that things would be much simpler if she could simply voice her knowledge.

However, it was not an easy thing to look the Beast in the eye and say, "I know you're trying to make me love you." He would most likely fly into a rage, which would be terrible. Alternatively, he might become earnest and vulnerable, as he had three weeks earlier. That would be far, far more terrible.

Lately, he had seemed always on the edge of a precipice of sincerity. Belle was unwilling to give him the push that would send him tumbling into the abyss.

After an overly long silence, the Beast huffed and turned away. Belle could hear his paws beat heavily against the ground as he strode to the rear of the castle. She knew she was extremely transparent, especially to the Beast's cunning eye, and she blushed at the possibility that he had divined every single one of her thoughts.

Blushing before a beast? Surely not.

Two days later, Belle and Vincent once again had their ears pressed to the door of the Beast's chambers as he and Francoise held their usual afternoon conference. Francoise sounded uncharacteristically agitated.

"Her bedchamber is perfectly fine. I would never allow a guest to be uncomfortable," the old woman declared. It sounded as though she was pacing back and forth. "Why do you ask? Has she complained?"

Vincent snickered at his aunt's distress.

"Quiet!" Belle hissed, waving a cautionary hand at him.

"He knows we're here. He can always smell us," Vincent pointed out.

"But we might as well pretend," she huffed before pressing her ear more firmly against the solid wood door.

"It was merely a thought," the Beast rumbled. It didn't sound as though he really wanted to appease his old servant. His voice was more amused than conciliatory. Yet it suddenly grew more serious. "I wish you wouldn't call her a guest."

Once again, Belle found herself shivering. She wished she wouldn't.

"Master, you do realize that she and Vincent are eavesdropping, don't you?" Francoise asked uncertainly.

"Yes. Never mind," the Beast growled. "You can leave with Vincent. Send her in."

"Caught again," Vincent murmured as Francoise tore the door open. He and Belle smiled guiltily at the cranky old woman.

"He wants you," Francoise said, jerking her head towards the doorway. Her usually pale face was rather pink; she must have been extremely annoyed.

Belle hated her mind for the way it translated those three innocuous words into a blush. Eyes on the ground, she slunk into the room. "Good afternoon," she muttered. It was really too warm for a fire, but one was blazing in the hearth nevertheless. Belle began to sweat almost as soon as she entered the room. No wonder Francoise had been flushed. Fortunately, the heat provided a splendid excuse for Belle's red face.

"Sit," the Beast said as the door swung shut. "Please."

His newfound politeness would never cease to startle her. "Thank you," she said, lowering herself onto her usual stool. She glanced shyly at the Beast and added, "I'm also grateful for your concern about my living quarters."

His thick black hairs rustled as he shifted uncomfortably. Apparently he was unaccustomed to his own kindness, as well. "As I told Francoise, it was only a thought." Another thought seemed to strike him, and he asked, "You're now seventeen, aren't you?"

Belle wiped a drop of sweat off her brow and said, "Yes. Why?"

"When was your birthday?"

"About a month and a half ago."

"Did you celebrate it?"

"Of course not."

That was clearly not the answer the Beast had hoped for. "Francoise didn't do anything for you?"

"I didn't tell Francoise it was birthday," Belle replied with a shrug. She hadn't expected any sort of celebration. Prisoners didn't celebrate. Of course, she could never say so to the Beast. He'd told Francoise not to call her a guest, and she didn't expect him to like the word "prisoner" any better. She wished he'd suggest a better term.

Belle once again mopped her forehead as the Beast stared thoughtfully into the hearth. His red eyes were gleaming in the firelight, but their glow no longer frightened Belle. His horns and claws were as sharp as they ever had been, yet Belle found them more impressive than terrifying. Yes, she decided, he was a fine animal.

And yet he was a man.

She had to see what sort of man he had been. Rising, she informed him, "I'm leaving."

"Surely not yet," he said, jerking his eyes from the fire and scowling up at her.

"You're not speaking, and I just thought of something I need to do." She took a few tentative steps towards the door.

"I want you to stay," he said in a tone that forbade dissent.

Once again, she hated herself for giving his words more meaning than they had. "Forgive me, but it's very hot, and I'm leaving," she declared.

"Very well," she heard him mutter as she slammed the door behind her. Odd. So odd. He should have railed against her and told her he owned her. But she couldn't worry too much about his strangeness at the moment, because she had a specific purpose in mind.

She bolted through the castle, intent upon her goal. Down to the lower floor she went, straight to the kitchen. "Vincent!" she shouted as she threw the door open.

"He's not here," Francoise flatly said, not even looking up from the vegetables she was chopping.

"Where is he?" Belle breathlessly asked.

"Cleaning."

"Where?"

"Probably the east wing."

"Perfect," Belle declared, slamming the kitchen shut and racing back to the main floor. She ran up the central staircase and turned into the east corridor, where, sure enough, she saw Vincent's strong back, stooped over as he mopped the stone floor. "I need you in the portrait room," she told him as she swept by. He wordlessly followed her.

Belle marched to the center of the Beast's portrait gallery, then turned to face Vincent, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Which portrait shows the master?" she asked. "As an adult, I mean."

Vincent's eyes lit up, and he beckoned for Belle to follow him out of the room. "I'll show you. It's not in here," he said. As they walked down the corridor, Belle heard him add in a low mutter, "Probably wouldn't want me to show it." She thought he sounded rather pleased. Maybe there was still a defiant streak in him.

He unlocked and opened one of the hallway's many nondescript wooden doors. Stepping inside, Belle saw that the room contained various damaged and decrepit pieces of furniture. Most were left uncovered, but several were protected with heavy sheets. Vincent knelt beside an old wardrobe and, reaching beneath it, pulled out what Belle assumed was a portrait, securely wrapped in dust-covered fabric.

"He wanted it destroyed," Vincent said as he carefully unwrapped the painting.

"How rebellious you are," Belle said with a smile.

Vincent grinned and nodded, offering her the painted contraband. She looked at it for some time. After a few silent minutes, she handed it back to Vincent with a quiet "Thank you" before turning to leave.

"Why did you need to see it?" the Beast's terrifying voice boomed from the doorway.

Belle and Vincent could only stand before the master with wide, frightened eyes. They had been caught.

"Why did you need to see it?" the Beast repeated, slowly articulating each and every word.

Perhaps if Belle chose her words carefully, she could fend off the Beast's wrath. "It was idle curiosity," she replied, hoping this was a good answer. How she hoped he would dismiss this transgression as a childish whim.

The Beast did not move. He merely stood, blocking the entire doorway with his bulk and regarding Belle with a thoughtful expression. After a while, he glanced towards Vincent and his gaze hardened. "You were to destroy that portrait," he snarled.

"If you punish Vincent for this, I'll never forgive you!" Belle suddenly cried out, thoroughly startling both Vincent and the Beast. They both stared mutely at her. She shifted uncomfortably under their gazes and finally said, "So that's that."

"I suppose it is," the Beast muttered. At last, he backed out of the doorway. "You both may go."

Vincent looked as though he couldn't believe his good fortune. He kept glancing between Belle and the Beast with a bewildered expression. "No punishment?" he breathlessly asked.

The Beast let out a long sigh. He seemed to be restraining himself from speaking. At last, glancing at Belle, he shook his head and silently shuffled out of the room.

Belle stared after him, stunned. He was most certainly not the handsome prince in the portrait. Yet he did not seem such a beast anymore, either. Almost against her will, her legs carried her into the hallway. "Please wait!" she called after him.

The Beast paused, though he did not look back at her. He waited in silence as she caught up to him.

"Thank you for forgiving Vincent," she said with a tentative smile.

"I never said I forgave him," the Beast immediately replied, a hint of his old snarl in his voice. He paused before adding, "You seem to care very much about his well-being."

"He's had a difficult life. As have you."

The Beast finally looked at her. "So that's how one earns your concern. Then you care about my well-being, too?"

Dear God. What a question. Belle felt that she ought to be extremely uncomfortable, but something in his tone suggested that he was not being completely serious. She was not sure how to respond. "I suppose I…I wouldn't want you to _die_. Or be unnecessarily harmed."

"But if I was to be _necessarily_ harmed…?"

"Well, that would be alright," Belle said with a grin. This conversation was dangerous. But they had never before bantered in such a way, and Belle's smile widened as she realized how pleasant it was.

"What of the man in the portrait?" the Beast slowly asked. "Would you strive to preserve his well-being?" There was a mischievous light in his eyes that Belle had not seen before.

"I might strive to preserve his features. They were rather nice." Belle laughed as she uttered these words, though she wasn't sure if she should be saying such things.

"Particularly the hair. He was always rather fond of that," the Beast said with a derisive snort. How strange it was, to see him mock his former self.

"The eyes, too," Belle added. "Quite a lovely shade of green. And the chin. It seemed evocative of a sort of inner strength."

"'Evocative,' she says. Her lexicon expands with every passing day." It was something the Beast might have said when Belle first arrived at the castle. Now, however, there was no biting mockery in his words. This was not ridicule. This was gentle teasing.

"I'll leave you to reflect on those eyes," he added, continuing down the hallway.

"One more thing!" Belle called after him.

He turned around and fixed her with a quizzical gaze.

"It would be very nice…if you would continue being kind to Vincent."

Upon hearing this, Beast almost seemed to deflate. Still, he nodded. "If the lady so desires," he said in a low voice.

As he turned away, Belle found herself overcome by a sudden blush. What was that conversation about? What had just occurred? She no longer had any idea where she and the Beast stood in relation to one another. Surely they were not friends. But his final words to her made her doubt that she was still his slave.

**And that's that. Please let me know what you think, especially if you see something that needs improving! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi everyone! Once again, sorry for the delay. At least this delay wasn't as egregious as some of the past ones have been. As always, I want to give ENORMOUS thanks to all you wonderful reviewers: WriterGirl1472, chloeluvsoreos7, waves on the sand, Bloody Phantom, AvilaAddy, and Arista Everett June. You guys are way too nice to me. Thank you so much.**

**I'm afraid editing on this chapter has been minimal, so I apologize for any errors or non sequiturs. Please point them out if you find them. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 11:**

Some say that love springs from the little things. They say that small gestures, added together, foster deep affection. Belle found such statements to be patently false. In her experience, the little things amounted to nothing more than brief pleasant feelings. Love required more substantial sustenance.

The first "little thing" was sunlight. The Beast began letting more and more light into the palace. From the east wing to the west, the window shutters were thrown open. It felt as though the entire palace was desperately lapping up the sun, like an animal that had gone without water for far too long.

"Why did you decide that you wanted more sunlight?" Belle curiously asked the Beast as she watched him roughly fling open the windows of an uninhabited bedchamber.

"It was a whim," he grunted in response. In a much more tentative voice, he asked, "Do you like it?"

"Yes," Belle replied, surprised.

The Beast said nothing more, but Belle thought he seemed pleased.

The two of them began to spend more and more time in one another's company. The Beast had apparently decided that Belle, being more intellectually competent than he had initially believed, needed an education.

He appeared in the kitchen one evening as Belle, Francoise, and Vincent were finishing their dinner. "Belle," he rumbled from the doorway.

"What is it?" Belle asked, barely looking up from her vegetables.

"I'd like you to come with me, if you're willing." Such politeness still sounded a little strange coming from the Beast, but Belle was gradually growing accustomed to it.

Belle paused briefly before setting aside her dish and rising from her stool, the surface of which had become rather smooth after having her seated upon it thrice every day. "Where are we going?" she asked as she followed the Beast to the upper level of the palace.

"The library," he replied, glancing over his shoulder. "What, am I a king? You need not walk seven steps behind me. Or is my girth such that I require the entire width of the hall?"

Belle sheepishly scurried forwards to walk alongside him. "Why are we going to the library?"

"Tell me," he said without answering her question, "what books have you read?"

"Not many," she admitted as he thrust open the double doors that led to the library. She entered to find herself nearly blinded by the sunlight that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the west side of the massive room.

"I thought as much," the Beast remarked. He seemed unaffected by the stabbing beams of light. Noticing that Belle was no longer beside him, he turned to find her standing on the threshold of the library, eyes closed as tightly as possible. "Stricken, are we?"

"It's not funny," Belle protested. She dared not open her eyes for fear of being blinded entirely.

"Of course it's not," the Beast's voice gently growled, directly beside her ear. Startled, she jerked several steps backwards. "Come along," the Beast said, placing his shoulder against her back and ushering her into the library. He led her to a table behind a particularly tall bookshelf that effectively blocked the rays of the setting sun.

Belle opened her eyes to behold a three-foot-tall stack of books on the table. "What is this?" she flatly asked.

As usual, the Beast refused to answer such an obvious question. "I think you ought to read them," he declared. "You've not done enough thinking in your life."

"I grew up in a cottage. Why would I read?"

"A tragic accident of birth. Don't waste this opportunity to remedy it." He dropped to the ground next the table and fixed his glowing red eyes on Belle. His gaze held a challenge.

Irritated, Belle grabbed the largest book from the pile and began to read. Thus they spent many peaceful evenings, undisturbed in the quiet of the library.

Not only did they read, but they also walked. The palace grounds were extensive, containing a thick forest and even a pond within their walls. Here, when wandering through the woods, Belle finally could take charge.

"This is a holm oak," she announced, rubbing her palms against the bark.

"A holm oak," the Beast dutifully repeated. He craned his hairy neck backwards to gaze upon the upper branches of the tree.

"Oh! Come here," Belle called to him. She had run off in search of wildflowers, and had been successful in her hunt. "Do you see this? These delicate white flowers are called cow-parsley."

The Beast snorted. "Not a particularly delicate name," he remarked.

Belle ignored him. "Here we have hemp-nettle. See? They have such lovely purple flowers."

"Where did you learn all this?" the Beast asked, watching her with considerable interest.

Belle smiled as she leaned against the holm-oak which she had previously pointed out. "My brother Laurent knows the outdoors very well. He taught me all about it."

"How excellent," the Beast said without conviction. After a brief pause, he added, "You must miss your family."

"Every day," Belle sadly agreed.

The Beast said nothing, but simply nodded, turned away, and strode quickly from the forest. Belle was unsure whether he crushed the cow-parsley intentionally or not.

As the summer wore on, the Beast appeared outside of his chambers more and more frequently. Sometimes he would be wandering his portrait gallery, reflecting on earlier days. At other times he would be in the library, selecting dozens of erudite tomes through which Belle was supposed to slog. Once or twice, he even appeared at Belle's door to request her company.

He never took such liberties with the kitchen. He might come to the doorway, but he would never linger inside. Belle soon realized that this was because of Vincent. The Beast disliked being in close quarters with the man he had long tormented and still loathed. As for Vincent, he too preferred to keep his distance from the master. Belle feared that the rift between the two half-brothers would never be healed.

Most often, the Beast sought out Belle. However, it was not uncommon for Belle to seek out the Beast, as well. She might ask him to explain a passage in one of her books. She might trouble him with questions about his past life. Occasionally, she might have no reason at all for going to him. Such occasions tended to please the Beast and confuse Belle. Why were her steps taking her to the Beast's dark chambers? Was it merely habit? Or did she actually desire to go?

The little things increased and multiplied. Conversations. Arguments. Apologies. Walks. Readings. Compliments paid. Favors requested and granted.

"It's rather like a courtship, isn't it?" Vincent remarked to Francoise, just loudly enough for Belle to hear it. The older woman quickly hushed her nephew as Belle's face flushed bright red with mortification.

Belle considered Vincent's words as she ambled through the corridors. A courtship? Certainly not. Courtships involved romantic gestures. Her relationship with the Beast involved friendship. It was a gradual process whereby they were coming to understand one another.

If Vincent were correct, Belle might expect the Beast to someday deliver flowers to her. The ludicrous nature of this thought struck her so strongly that she began giggling in the hallway.

"The lady finds amusement in an empty corridor," the Beast's voice suddenly rumbled. "How peculiar."

Belle nearly jumped out of her skin. "Where did you come from?" she demanded, whirling around to face her monstrous companion. "I don't see how you can be so large yet tread so lightly."

"You shouldn't draw attention to my condition. It's unkind."

"Kindness has never been one of my fortes. I've only ever excelled at cowering."

"Whimpering," he added.

"Trembling."

"Shuddering."

"Shrieking."

"To be fair, you rarely shrieked," the Beast said by way of correction. "Terror manifests itself rather quietly in you."

Belle laughed. "Thank you for that concession."

The Beast was now regarding her rather seriously. "What a difference a few months make," he said. "You bear yourself more confidently. You speak with a stronger voice. You look me in the eye."

His words made her want to avert her gaze from his eyes, but she resisted. "You've changed, as well," she stoutly replied. "You don't roar. You don't threaten. You don't rant."

"Believe me when I tell you that I remain capable of a good rant."

"As I remain capable of a good whimper. But there's a bit of a gulf between capability and actual performance, isn't there?"

The Beast looked down at her with a baffled yet happy expression. "Sometimes you sound like me," he told her. "Excellent. Keep reading."

"You're very pretentious," Belle mutinously replied. But she knew he was right. At times, she really did sound like her captor.

So the little things piled up. But what did they amount to? Fleeting moments of companionship, for the most part. Belle still shuddered when she recalled the curse that the enchantress had laid upon the Beast. She shuddered even more strongly when she allowed herself to think about the sole way to break the curse.

Belle knew that her time in the Beast's abode had irreparably changed her. She was not so certain that she had changed the Beast. She remained ignorant of how he dealt with Vincent when he knew that she was out of earshot. She could not see into his soul. For all she knew, he remained as savage, as resentful, and as power-hungry as he had been at the time when he was cursed.

One late summer's evening, Belle was sitting comfortably in an armchair in the library, ignoring the volume of poems in her lap and watching the shadows of the palace lengthen. She heard the door slowly creak open. The Beast did nothing slowly, so it could not be him. Belle glanced up. Sure enough, it was Francoise.

"Hello," Belle said to the old woman as she approached. "Is it dinnertime?"

"I came to see how you were feeling," Francoise replied. She took a seat near Belle. As always, the setting sun was streaming through the west-facing windows. It struck Francoise's eyes rather uncomfortably, so she held up a small book to block the rays.

"I'm feeling excellent. Should I be feeling otherwise?"

Francoise stared. "You really should stop talking like the master," she said bluntly.

"I'm sorry," Belle said. "I've talked to him so much that it's become a habit."

"Never mind that," Francoise said with a sigh. "It seems you haven't heard the news."

"There can be news in a palace with four inhabitants?"

"Yes, oh protégée of my young master, there can be news." Francoise was smiling. Despite her protests to the contrary, it was evident that she liked the new, Beast-educated Belle.

"What is it?" Belle eagerly asked.

Francoise hesitated. "You should say goodbye to Vincent before tomorrow morning."

Belle's blood ran cold. Immediately her mind leapt to the worst possible conclusions. The Beast was going to kill Vincent. His hatred had gotten the better of him at last. As Belle calmed herself, however, she realized that Francoise did not seem particularly distraught. Admittedly, Francoise was one of the least emotional beings to ever walk the earth. Still, she would certainly have been upset if her nephew was going to be executed. Something else was afoot.

"What is it?" Belle asked for the second time.

Now Francoise was smiling again. What a confusing old woman. "The master has informed Vincent that he is free to leave, if he so desires. Vincent has decided to take up residence in the forest village. He departs tomorrow."

Belle felt as though she had been slapped. She could only gape, open-mouthed. "The Beast did this?" she finally croaked.

"Yes," Francoise affirmed.

"He forgave Vincent?"

"Is such a thing possible?"

"Perhaps not. But he released Vincent?"

"As I just said. Where are you going?" For Belle had bolted from the room, in her haste forgetting that she still carried her book of poetry.

She charged through the palace. Down a corridor, around a corner, down the central staircase, deep within the palace to the Beast's chambers. She had made the same run many times before, but never with such urgency.

She collided with the Beast just outside the heavy wooden door that led to his darkened room. Evidently he had just emerged.

"What on earth are you doing?" he demanded, staring down at the mousy young woman as she let her book fall to the ground with a noisy thud.

A thousand pleasant conversations had been ineffectual. Favors, compliments, and apologies had worked no magic. But the news of Vincent's liberation had had a startling effect. It came as concrete evidence that the Beast's heart had softened. And it made Belle rejoice.

Elated, with tears dripping from her ears, Belle threw her arms around the Beast's shaggy neck. "Praise be to God," she murmured into his shoulder.

"The lady's sudden affection is utterly mystifying," he said with a harsh, uncomfortable, yet not displeased laugh. Through his hairy coat, Belle could feel the beat of his cursed heart steadily increasing in speed.

**So good things are happening now. I worry that I sped things along too much in this chapter, but it seemed that the time was right. Maybe you'll think differently. Regardless, I'd love to hear your opinions! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi everyone! Again (again?!), I apologize for the delay in updating. I do actually have a legitimate excuse this time. I did a little travelling over the summer, so I was without a computer for several months. But now I'm home! And I have internet access! So I have prepared another chapter. **

**As always, countless thanks to the reviewers of the previous chapter: Aspen of the Fae, Akora17, Arista Everett June, secretwritergirl, Bottled Sunshine, and AvilaAddy. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 12:**

The village where Vincent had taken up residence was only an hour's walk from the Beast's palace. The road between the palace and the village was slightly overgrown, since few had traveled that route since the Beast – "the lord," to his vassals – had supposedly perished in a crusade. Still, it was not at all arduous. Belle found that she could easily make the walk to visit Vincent in his new home.

The first time she announced her intention to visit Vincent, the Beast had objected. "I would prefer as little traffic as possible between my home and his," he said stiffly.

"Then my visits will be as infrequent as possible," Belle retorted. "How about once a week?"

The Beast rolled his exasperated eyes. "Are you telling me that any greater infrequency would be impossible?" he asked.

"That is correct," Belle said, grinning cheekily as him.

When confronted with such a beaming smile, the Beast had no choice but to relent. His scowl gradually softened. "Do what you want," he sighed, turning away.

Thus, Belle made it her habit to weekly grace Vincent's home with her company. His abode was really nothing more than the back room of a prosperous baker's cottage, rented out at a reasonable price, but he seemed to be very fond of it. Belle suspected that he would have taken delight in a hovel, so relieved was he at being out from under the Beast's thumb.

"Hard at work, I see," she said one fine summer day as she approached the baker's cottage, seeing Vincent chopping wood outside.

"Good afternoon," he said, letting his axe swing downwards to stick in the ground. He smiled warmly at her. He had propped open the door to his room by leaning a wooden board against it. Within, the only thing visible was the pallet on the floor where he slept. Outside, creeping vines framed the doorway.

Vincent was still smiling. Belle always had to fight back tears when she saw how content he was in his new surroundings. This time, he noticed her eyes growing damp. "Is something wrong?" he asked anxiously.

Belle drew a ragged breath as she tried to control her overly emotional eyes. She was tempted to blame her tears on the rays of the lowering sun, but ultimately decided that honesty would be best. "It's just that – that – you're happy. And that's so good. I'm so very glad. I'm so very glad he let you go."

Vincent hoisted his axe over his shoulder and fixed Belle with a serious gaze. "He did it for you, you know," he said.

A blush spread through Belle's tears. "That's what – what I had assumed," she haltingly said, her face growing redder with every word. "I was always pestering him about it," she hastily added. "I'm sure that's why he finally…did it. He wanted to shut me up."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what it was," Vincent said, more than a trace of sarcasm laced through his words.

More blushing. It was time to change the subject. A question occurred to Belle, a question which she desperately wanted to pose to Vincent. However, she was not sure it would be wise. She opened and closed her mouth without saying a word.

Noticing her hesitation, Vincent prompted her. "What is it?"

The words rushed out before Belle could stop them. "Do you think you and the Beast could ever be reconciled?"

A hardness that Belle had never before seen crept into Vincent's eyes. He had never dared show his bitterness against the Beast while dwelling in the palace. Now, however, many years' worth of resentment was unveiling itself in the harshness of his expression. He said nothing.

Belle had to look away. "Do you want to be reconciled?" she asked, rephrasing her initial query.

Vincent kicked at one of the logs he had just chopped. "I don't know if it would help either of us," he finally said.

Belle did not quite understand, but she knew the time for invasive questions was over. "I see you're creating a sort of yard here," she said, glancing at several flowerpots he had set up by the doorway.

His expression immediately brightened. "I've fixed up the interior, too," he eagerly said, beckoning for Belle to follow him. "Come. I'll show you what I've done."

Relieved that their interaction was now on less shaky ground, Belle hurriedly followed Vincent into his home to admire and praise the changes he had made. Everything was rather shabby, but for a man who had never possessed anything more than a few cheap trinkets, having an entire room, however unimpressive, to dispose of however he pleased was more than he had ever dreamed possible.

Belle returned to the palace with a full heart. As always, she briefly toyed with the idea of not returning, of fleeing back to her family. But _fleeing_ hardly seemed necessary anymore. What was there to flee from? The Beast? He had become the closest friend she had ever known. Fleeing would feel like heartless abandonment.

She reentered the palace grounds through the main gate, which she had left open when she had departed earlier in the day. She had grown to dislike coming into the palace through the main doors – she felt like she made far too stately an entrance that way – so she skipped to the side of the palace, where the enchanted rosebush was growing, to use the side entrance through which Francoise had led her on the very first day she came to live with the Beast. Before closing the door behind her, she briefly turned around to soak in the peaceful, dusking ambience for a few final seconds.

Within, the palace was anything but peaceful. Somewhere, the Beast was raging. Belle could hardly remember the last time she had heard his fearsome roars. They did not plunge her into abject terror as they used to, but they did send a bit of a tremor through her. Something very terrible must have happened.

She hurried through the halls of the palace, following the roars as they grew ever louder. Her anxiety rapidly increased along with the volume of the Beast's wrath. What could have happened?

At that point, she had come to the entrance hall of the palace. She could hear the Beast's voice emanating from one of the rooms along the balcony that extended from the top of the central staircase to surround the entire hall. At last, she was close enough to hear what he was saying. It seemed that he and Francoise were quarreling rather fiercely.

"That woman has no claim on my kindness!" the Beast snarled, his words echoing throughout the hall as Belle crept up the staircase as silently as possible.

Belle was certain she would perish of grief if she found that the Beast was talking about her. "Please, please, let me not be 'that woman,'" she prayed over and over as she continued sneaking up the stairs.

"Kindness is not something that is earned," Francoise snapped back. Belle had never before heard the old woman sound so venomous.

"Isn't it?" the Beast demanded.

"Look at Belle's treatment of you. You have done _nothing_ to deserve that."

"Stop using Belle as your trump card. She has nothing to do with this." Belle could have wept at these words, so relieved was she to hear that she was not the woman under discussion. The Beast did not despise her.

Francoise sounded utterly disgusted. "Doesn't she?" the weary old woman hissed. "What would she think of your hardness of heart? You think she'd let it pass unchecked?"

"I will _not_ help the woman who destroyed my family!" the Beast roared at her.

Belle froze at the top of the staircase. Finally she knew who they were arguing about. It was Marie, Vincent's mother. Belle had assumed that Marie was dead. Evidently she had assumed wrongly.

"You destroyed your _own_ family!" Francoise screamed at him.

There was a long silence. Finally, the Beast snarled, "Get out." The ferocity in his voice sent chills down Belle's spine.

"You don't even have to see Marie. Just send her some sort of allowance. Try to make things right."

It seemed to Belle that the Beast did not at all want to make things right. The thought nearly broke her heart.

"Get out," the Beast said again.

Belle tiptoed closer to the voices. Now that she was on the balcony, she knew for certain where the argument was occurring. The Beast and Francoise had cloistered themselves in one of the palace's many unused sitting rooms.

"Perhaps I can calm them down," she murmured to herself as she drew nearer.

"I thought that your kindness to Vincent indicated a true change of heart," Francoise was ranting. "Evidently it was a superficial act, calculated – to do what? To please Belle, I assume? Acting good will do nothing. She wants you to _be _good, you fool!"

"You are asking too much!" the Beast howled in a voice of complete despair.

"Don't be a coward!"

"It is _not_ cowardice to hate the woman who caused my suffering."

"You caused your own suffering, and you will sustain it forever if you refuse to forgive!"

"_Get out!_" the Beast bellowed for a third time.

Belle rounded the doorframe and stepped into the sitting room just in time to see the Beast raise a powerful claw and, with a single swing, shatter the chair that separated him from Francoise. Its pieces hit the wall with a clatter, sending wooden splinters in a thousand different directions. Several splinters pierced Francoise's arm, raised to protect her face.

Belle gasped. The noise startled the Beast, and he whirled about to find her huddled in the doorway, eyes wide and terrified. An array of emotions flitted across his face in quick succession: shock, confusion, anger, fear, and finally despair. "I'm hopeless," he muttered. Head bowed, he charged past Belle, onto the balcony, down the central staircase, and into the depths of the palace. Belle could hear his footsteps rapidly growing fainter and fainter.

"Follow him," Francoise hissed at her.

Belle did not need to be told twice. She bolted out of the room, following the same path that the Beast had taken. She had never before known just how quickly her legs could carry her. She ran far too quickly: Into the wall went her shoulder; into a doorframe went her toes; onto the stone floor tumbled her entire body. She hauled herself upwards, ignoring the throbbing in her leg and the sticky warmth that seemed to be trickling downward from her knee.

She glanced upwards to see the Beast standing before her with an expression of deep pain and concern. "I heard you fall," he said.

"I'm fine," she replied.

He turned and ran. Stone-faced, Belle followed. She soon found herself charging down the spiral staircase up which Francoise had led her on the day she first arrived at the palace, the same staircase which she had so cheerfully ascended only a few minutes earlier. The Beast disappeared through the door at the staircase's base, and shortly later Belle did likewise.

"For God's sake, stop!" she shouted desperately as she emerged onto the palace grounds.

She need not have strained her voice. The Beast had already stopped his mad flight. He was crouching in front of the enchanted rose bush, staring at its ever-blooming petals with an inscrutable expression.

Belle approached slowly, as though he was an animal that she feared frightening away. "It's really alright," she told him.

"Leave me alone," he said. The words came out not as a snarl, but as a sigh.

"Please listen to me," Belle pleaded, taking a few steps nearer.

"That enchantress…" The Beast began to speak, but his words soon trailed away.

Belle decided to encourage him. "What about the enchantress?" she gently asked.

It took some time for the Beast to complete his thought. "I was still a child when she laid her curse." He paused. "Most people would give a child time to change his ways. But the enchantress was wiser than that. She knew that there would be no happy metamorphosis of my soul."

"Please don't say such things," Belle broke in.

The Beast ignored her entirely. "That enchantress was, I think, tired of dishonesty. She was tired of watching beasts like me roam the earth in disguise. That's why she cast her spell. At the very least, I am now an honest beast. There will be no mistaking me for anything but what I am." He finally looked at Belle, and the emptiness in his eyes nearly broke her heart. "You've always been honest. When you first came to my palace, your exterior fully resembled the frightened child that you were within. You're quite different now." His voice had grown soft, almost tender. "Regality has become part of your nature. Queenliness. It was not always there. But as soon as it emerged, your visage changed to reflect the new trait within." Another lengthy pause. When he spoke, his voice had grown even quieter. "Some things have not changed. Your beauty remains constant, both within and without. It is as striking as it was on the day of your arrival."

How was one to respond to this? Belle could only look upon the Beast and fight back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes at the slightest provocation. Fortunately, she did not need to respond. It seemed that the Beast did not want her to.

He seemed embarrassed; he was awkwardly shuffling his paws back and forth in the dust. "Would that I had been born as honest as you," he muttered. "Truthfulness came too late for me. Far too late. But at least it has come. I am a beast, and all who see me will know that I am a beast." Abruptly he halted his rambling and leapt to his feet. He slowly approached Belle, keeping his red eyes fixed on her face. She could not read his expression. "Just as all who see you immediately recognize that you are a beauty."

Blushing, Belle broke eye contact. She wished her heart would not pound so loudly.

"Don't worry," the Beast told her. "I will not make you uncomfortable much longer. I'm sorry." With those words, he turned and dashed away, back into the shadowy recesses of his palace. Belle stood by the enchanted rosebush for some time, desperately trying to understand what had just transpired.

Over the next several weeks, the Beast was curiously silent. He no longer summoned Belle or sought out her company. When she came to him, he spoke very little. Most of the time, he simply stared at the ground.

It was unaccountable. Belle found herself growing increasingly confused. The Beast was certainly not shy. Why, then, did he refuse to look at her? The Beast did not seem angry with her. Why, then, would he not speak with her, as he once had? On the rare occasion that he looked her in the eye, his expression was terrifying in its unreadable intensity.

It was not difficult to diagnose the problem: He had lost hope. His volcanic episode with Francoise had apparently convinced him that he would never and could never change. Again and again, Belle told him that everything was alright, that he _had_ changed, and that he was not by any stretch of the imagination a beast. Repeatedly she attempted to convince him of this fact, but he would not be persuaded.

"All the evidence is against you," he growled.

"You are examining only the evidence that suits _your_ rather depressing hypothesis," Belle impatiently retorted. She almost wanted to provoke him to anger. Anything would be better than dead-eyed despondence.

He merely looked at her. Try as she might, she could not decipher the thoughts hidden behind his red eyes.

After several weeks of this, Belle began to panic. "What can I do?" she desperately asked Francoise as they prepared dinner together one evening.

The old woman dropped the knife with which she had been mincing vegetables. It fell to the stone floor with an alarming clatter, startling Belle rather badly. In a show of uncharacteristic emotion, Francoise covered her face with her hands. "Forgive me," she croaked into her shaking palms. "I pushed him too far. If I had not provoked him…"

"You are _not_ to blame," Belle declared, gathering Francoise's frail body into her arms and giving her as comforting an embrace as was possible. She had never before realized how very old Francoise was.

"I have no solution for you," the old woman sighed into Belle's shoulder. "Perhaps…the master is right. Perhaps his current form is best. If he is at peace with his condition, is it right for us to interfere?"

Belle abruptly withdrew her embrace. "Don't ever say that again," she snapped, stepping away from Francoise with an expression of disgust. "He shuffles about as though only half alive. How dare you call that peace? He needs to come to his senses. We need to bring him to his senses. For his own good, and for…me." Her voice trailed off at the end of her rant as she realized what she was saying. "Forgive me, but I'm not hungry tonight," she said, making a hasty exit.

Several days later, for the first time in weeks, the Beast requested Belle's company. He sent Francoise as his emissary. When Francoise announced the master's summons to Belle, both women struggled to keep from weeping for joy.

Belle dashed to his chambers as though carried by the wind itself. Without knocking, she flung open his heavy wooden door. "Recovered, are we?" she breathlessly asked.

The scene before her was reminiscent of her very first meeting with the Beast. There was the roaring fire, completely unnecessary now that summer had come. There was the Beast, crouching before the flames and soaking in their heat. There was the pathetic little stool upon which Belle had cowered many months earlier.

The Beast did not bother to greet her. "I've come to a decision," he said, staring into the fireplace.

"Have you?" Belle said. She pulled the stool closer to him and eagerly sat. "Will I like your decision?"

The Beast hesitated, glancing from the fire to Belle and back to the fire. "I…do not know."

Immediately Belle's entire body went cold, despite the sweltering heat emanating from the hearth. "What do you mean?" He did not reply quickly enough to suit her; impatiently, she added, "Look at me and answer my question."

"I cannot look at you."

A long silence followed these rather strange words. "What do you mean?" Belle asked for the second time.

"It will be easier this way…for me. I would like to make this audience as brief as possible," the Beast said, still staring fixedly at the flames within the hearth.

"By all means, do so," Belle said. "Please, just tell me what you've decided. Your hesitation is a torment to me." Her voice quavered. She had not felt so fearful in many months.

The Beast scratched at the floor with his massive paws. He shook his horns. He closed and opened his blazing red eyes several times. He took a deep breath. "It is time for you to leave."

**And there you have it. I'd love to hear what you think! **


	13. Chapter 13

**What is this? A timely update? Witchcraft was clearly involved. No way does something this incredible happen naturally. Here's hoping the quick writing hasn't lowered the quality of the chapter. **

**As always, innumerable thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed the previous chapter: JanEyrEvanescence12, Kyuubigurl74, Akora17, Arista Everett June, Hayden Avery, and Aspen of the Fae. I can't thank you guys enough. Your reviews are the best possible source of motivation!  
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**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Chapter 13:**

Belle never could have anticipated the searing pain that tore through her heart when she heard the Beast's decision. Blindsided by shock and hurt, she could not immediately respond. At last, she managed to produce a single word: "Why?" It came out as little more than a whimper.

The Beast continued to stare fixedly into the hearth. "You are no longer needed here. It would be cruel to keep you any longer." He spoke mechanically, as though he had practiced his lines beforehand.

Belle struggled to master her quavering voice. "It is crueler still," she slowly replied, "to dismiss me so abruptly and unfeelingly."

"Never unfeelingly," she thought she heard the Beast mutter, but she could not be certain. She pressed onwards. "Why?" she asked for the second time.

"I told you," the Beast said, his voice completely flat. "I don't need you anymore. You may go home." He finally looked at her, and Belle's heart leapt when she detected in his eyes a flash of his old personality, his former energy. "Several months ago, you would have rejoiced to hear me say this."

"I would have," Belle agreed. She met his gaze and lifted her chin in defiance, although her voice still shook.

"Then what has changed?" he asked.

"Everything, as you know full well."

"Regardless, you have heard my decision."

"I don't think I want to honor your decision."

The Beast growled in frustration. "I had hoped that this audience would end quickly. Stop dragging your feet."

Belle stood and impaled him with her fiercest glare, though its effect was lessened somewhat by the tear that seeped from the corner of her eye. "I am not going to leave you."

The Beast also stood, and as his horns scraped the ceiling, Belle realized for the first time in many months that he was truly massive. "I will _make_ you leave," he said calmly, chillingly.

"Why?" Belle asked for a third time, her voice breaking on the word.

"I've told you twice," the Beast snarled at her.

"Yes, you said you don't need me here anymore. But I don't believe you."

"You had a single purpose, Belle." He was breathing heavily and once again avoiding her eyes. "And it has become clear that you will not fulfill that purpose."

Belle's heart was no longer afflicted with the burning pain that had come with the Beast's initial announcement; the agony had become a dull ache that intensified with every word the Beast uttered. It was that throbbing ache which made Belle realize just how mistaken the Beast was. As far as her feelings were concerned, she had most definitely fulfilled the purpose for which she had come. The startling realization gave her new boldness.

"You're wrong," she somehow managed to tell the Beast, despite the tremors that refused to leave her voice.

"I don't believe I am."

"Please, let's just speak plainly."

"Gladly," he said, though he sounded anything but glad.

"My purpose," Belle began, red-faced and wishing she didn't have to subject herself to such humiliation, "was to break the curse that the enchantress laid upon you."

The Beast did not reply. He merely watched her from the corner of his eye.

"Through love," she added.

"As I said, it is time for you to leave," the Beast muttered shamefacedly.

If only he would look at her! "Exactly what makes you think that I have failed my purpose?" Belle slowly asked. She wished she could be more direct, but she had reached the limits of her courage. Still, she knew the Beast would understand. Every word she had uttered was pregnant was meaning.

The words lingered in the air for some time before the Beast seemed to hear them. Suddenly, startlingly, his head jerked upwards, and at last he looked Belle full in the face. "Don't lie to me," he hissed at her. The firelight illuminated his expression and revealed the desperation – or was it hope? – in his eyes.

"I asked a question," Belle said, her heartbeat rapidly accelerating.

"A coward's way out."

The sarcasm in his voice was more than Belle's struggling heart could bear. She stood on her toes, grabbed one of the Beast's monstrous horns, and yanked his head downward so that at last their eyes were level. "How dare you?" she snapped at him. "How dare you call me a coward? You summoned me from my home to this godforsaken place, and I came. You demanded that I face you and your hideous form, and I rose to the occasion. You asked me to hear your revolting story, and I listened with compassion. And yet you think I'm too cowardly to speak my feelings? The coward's way out would be leaving, a course of action which you alone have suggested. You hypocrite!" She released his horn and took a step backwards. She was shocked at her own boldness.

"Then speak your feelings, if your courage is so unconquerable," the Beast snapped. He stared Belle down without blinking.

"I love you."

A thick silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Belle felt a bead of sweat roll down her temple, and she realized what a horrific, pathetic situation she had placed herself in. Declaring her love to a massive, hairy, horned monster with whom she fought daily, who had forced her to come to his palace, and who was now trying to drive her away. It was too horrifying and fantastical to be real.

_Was_ it real? Yes, the tears that had begun to stream down Belle's face proved without a doubt that her love was entirely genuine. "I wish you'd say something," she sniffled, feeling a bit too much like the frightened little girl that had first arrived at the palace on a cold winter's day. "I hope you'll believe me. This is too humiliating – but I had to tell you, so that you know that you don't have to give up hope. You don't have to send me away. I can break the curse."

Belle was struggling to regain control over her thoughts. From the moment of her declaration of love, her imagination had been running wild. She had never before allowed herself to dream of the future. Now, with her words floating heavily in the air of the Beast's smoky antechamber, her thoughts had wrested themselves from her heretofore tight control. Visions drifted unbidden through her mind. She imagined the palace once again bustling with activity, servants and courtiers filling its lonely halls. She envisioned the villagers in the forest, shocked to learn that their lord had returned. She pictured a life with the Beast – not as a beast, but as a handsome, learned, strong-willed man.

Belle could not help but wonder if the Beast's imaginings at all resembled her own. He was breathing in and out, in and out, slowly and deliberately. While he had stared at her in utter shock for several seconds after her declaration, he had since averted his eyes and was currently glaring determinedly at the far corner of the room.

"You have nothing about which to feel humiliated. Thank you for your honesty," he said quietly and flatly.

It was not the response that Belle had hoped for. She stayed silent, waiting for something better. When the Beast showed no signs of amending his rather cold words, she finally protested. "What are you saying?" she asked, her voice cracking with emotion. "You should be rejoicing. This is the way to break the curse."

The Beast took yet another deep breath. "You forget that there are two conditions that must be met in order for the curse to be broken."

"Yes, of course," Belle agreed. "Someone must love you, and you must…love them." Her words trailed off as she realized what the Beast was trying to convey to her. She had assumed that, with her desperate confession of love, she had reached the pinnacle of humiliation and was now immune to any further shame. Evidently she had been wrong.

"You don't feel the same," she said. Her voice was completely empty.

The Beast's eyes were still fixed a cobweb in the corner. "I do not," he agreed.

"This is the reason why I am no longer needed here."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments before replying, "Yes."

Belle wanted the floor to open up beneath her and swallow her whole. "Then I suppose I will do as you say," she quietly said. "I will leave immediately."

"Thank you for your patience," the Beast said rather formally. "You have done me a great service."

"Not great enough, I think." Belle gave him a pathetic mockery of a smile, curtseyed, and exited the room as gracefully as her heartbreak permitted.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she bolted. Tears streamed down her face as she dashed through the palace. She went directly to her own chambers. Upon entering, she immediately flung herself on her bed and wept. She wept for herself, her unrequited love, and her wounded pride. More than that, however, she wept for the Beast. How long would he remain cursed? There too much energy left within him. Surely, if there was a god, he would not allow such a life to waste away within the cold walls of an abandoned palace.

Belle began to pray. "Don't let him die here. Don't let him die alone. Please bring someone to break the spell. I'll find someone myself. I'm sure Marie or Adele could do it. They've always been so strong. I was a fool for thinking that someone as useless as I am could do away with the curse. The Beast is wise for not loving me. But please, whatever happens, do not let him die here." Gasping sobs punctuated every sentence.

Someone knocked gently on the door. It could only be Francoise. "Don't come in," Belle tried to say, but she could only produce another sob.

Francoise took this meager response as an invitation to enter. She quietly opened the door and gazed upon the weeping girl with an expression of deep compassion. "The master told me the substance of your conversation."

"I wish he hadn't," Belle whimpered into her pillow.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. The master had only praise for you. He is proud of your courage and honesty."

Belle rolled onto her back and stared blankly at the ceiling. "If I had been courageous and honest when I first came here, do you think he could have loved me?"

"He does love you."

"That is a bald-faced lie. If he loved me, the curse would be broken."

"_He_ is the one who lied to you. He does not want the curse broken."

"Nonsense," Belle muttered. Tears were still trickling persistently from the corners of her eyes. "Did he tell you this?"

Francoise sighed. "No, but I can read him. I've known him his entire life." She approached and sat on the corner of the bed. "He's given up, you know."

"I know." Belle laughed through her tears. It sounded more like a bark.

"You're wrong. It's not because he doesn't love you. He's afraid that, even as a human, he'll never become a good man. He doesn't want to keep you with him if he's going to act like a monster forever. That's why he's sending you away. You must believe me, Belle!" The frail old woman looked like she might slap Belle if she didn't listen.

Belle was tired of having her emotions toyed with. She leapt to her feet, dashed to her wardrobe, thrust open its doors, and began pulling her meager belongings from it, flinging them over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Francoise asked. A hint of desperation had entered her voice.

"I'm leaving today."

"Dark has already fallen. You can't leave until morning."

"Call me a fool, but I cannot remain here in my current state of utter humiliation," Belle snapped. She wiped a final tear from her eye. Standing, she stretched out her arms to Francoise. "I doubt I'll see you again, so you might as well give me a proper farewell."

The old woman dutifully rose and returned Belle's embrace. "You are making a terrible mistake," she said, hugging Belle as fiercely as her thin arms allowed.

Belle shook her head in disagreement. "My time here is finished. Please convey my thanks to the Beast. He's taught me many things. I doubt my family will recognize me when I return home."

She left within the hour, taking only what she had originally brought with her. The summer climate would have made the journey somewhat pleasant if her spirits had not been so low. As it was, she could hardly will one foot to step in front of the other. She traveled through the night. Many weary hours after her departure, just before dawn, she at last arrived at her childhood home. She pounded on the door for several minutes before someone finally responded. It was her eldest brother, Laurent.

When he saw his sister standing on the threshold, he could only stare. "It's a ghost," he breathed.

"I'm back," Belle said lamely. No other words were available to her. Her journey and her heartbreak had left her dry.

**Hopefully this chapter turned out alright. I'd love to hear what you think! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi everyone! As always, I apologize for the delay in updating. I'm afraid that this is really a filler chapter, but hopefully you all will enjoy it. Massive thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter: sss, jeccabelle, fairytalefanatic, Me, Bloody Phantom, JanEyrEvanescence12, Kyuubigurl74, AvilaAddy, and the guests who reviewed! **

**Chapter 14:**

The sounds of laughter, music, and frivolous conversation wafted lightly through the streets. A visitor might follow the music if he chose to. He would soon find that it came from the finest home in the whole town, an impressive but welcoming structure of red brick. Its many windows glowed with light.

Inside, well-dressed men and women talked and flirted as servants removed the plates and swept the crumbs from the dinner table. Soon there would be dancing. Most had already secured their partners for the first set, and were eagerly anticipating the pleasures of the dance floor. There was one young lady, however, who was of a different mind.

"Belle, won't you come back inside? The night's growing colder."

Belle looked over her shoulder and smiled half-heartedly at her concerned sister. "No, Marie. It's a warm night. I'll stay here." Placing her hands on the rail of the balcony where she stood, she gazed across the town.

Behind her, Marie sighed with frustration. "You're being unsociable. This party is for you. Everyone wants to talk to you."

"Everyone wants to talk about the suffering and the starvation and the castle and the Beast. I can't properly explain the truth. No one understands. _You _certainly don't, although you do try, and I'm grateful for it. Since I can't make anyone understand, I'd rather not talk about it. But everyone is so curious."

"Can you blame them?"

"Of course not. But I can avoid them."

Marie came to stand beside her younger sister. "There are several very nice gentlemen who I think you should meet."

Belle barely contained a bark of laughter. "Definitely not."

"You really should meet them. One gentleman in particular – Hugo is his name – he's quite an intellectual. You'd like him, now that you're so academic."

"Marie, what on earth does that mean?"

"You read so many books now. And you like new ideas."

"I don't like books and ideas for their own sake." Belle tried to keep the edge from her voice, but could not suppress it entirely.

"Then why?"

Belle moved as if to speak, then closed her mouth without saying a word. After a brief pause, she laid a gentle hand on her sister's arm. "You seem happy in your marriage. I'm glad."

This was Marie's favorite topic. Her expression immediately brightened. "Adam is a wonderful man."

"And so wealthy," Belle remarked, though in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but spitefully add that Adam certainly did not live in a castle.

"He could have been poor. It wouldn't really have mattered. With the chest of riches that the monster gave to Papa, we had enough money for me to marry anyone."

Now Belle really did laugh. "What a relief it is to know that all this trouble was actually worth it!"

"What do you mean?"

"You have the husband and, soon, the family you've always wanted. Adele is at school. Louis seems well-established in his business."

"Yes, he likes working at the bank. And he's very much sought-after. All the ladies are hoping to win him."

"He could stand to flirt less, from my perspective," Belle dryly remarked.

"But it's all in good fun, Belle. I hope he chooses Elise. Have you met her? She's absolutely lovely. Very sweet, very kind, and her taste in gowns is above reproach. Simply adorable."

Belle ignored Marie's ramblings. "Out of all of us, only Laurent is unchanged."

"He could have made something of himself, like Louis did. He still can. That chest is still full of jewels. But he won't touch them. He says it's all blood money."

"Isn't it?" Belle looked at her sister with a sharp expression. "I was in that castle for a while. Plenty of time for enormous physical and emotional agony."

Marie could not form a reply. "Belle, I didn't mean – what else could we do?"

Belle laughed again. "No, I don't blame you. Forgive me for speaking like that. I've grown so harsh. Sometimes I just want to turn soft again."

"You can start by dancing," Marie tentatively suggested.

Belle imagined that it must be very pleasant in Marie's world, where the worth of a person could be assessed from their conversation and social civilities. In the past, Marie's world had also belonged to Belle. Although part of her resisted, she reasoned that she might as well try to reenter that world, if only for one evening.

"Then I will dance, if you will fetch me a partner," Belle said, turning to her sister with a manufactured smile. Marie returned the smile with one far more genuine, and together they glided from the balcony back into the crowd of cheery visitors. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, after all.

"Laurent, I think there's something critically wrong with me."

Belle was back in her childhood home, which now contained only Laurent, since her beloved Papa had moved to town to live with Marie and her husband. She and Laurent sat before the fireplace. She stirred a pot of soup hanging over the flames while he clumsily attempted to mend his boots.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, though it was clear that his mind was on his present task.

"The party was awful."

"Why?"

"I think I've become very strange." Belle sighed heavily, staring at her small but no longer dainty hand as it slowly stirred the cauldron before her. "It was difficult to talk to people."

"In what way?" Laurent was better at asking questions than providing solutions.

It was a difficult question. Belle did not have a ready answer. "I suppose everyone seemed…shadowy. They were not very straightforward. At least most of them. The ones who were truly honest were all like Marie. People like that are perfectly fine: woefully inconsequential, but very pleasant. I can talk to them. But how can you hold a proper conversation with someone who refuses to speak his mind?"

Laurent chuckled over his threadbare boots. "They're just trying to be polite."

"It was made worse by the fact that Marie kept throwing me at various men."

"You didn't like any of them?"

"They were weak."

Finally Laurent stopped his work. He looked at Belle with a stern and somewhat hurt expression. "There's no need to speak like that. The men of this town may not lord it over their servants in a castle, and they may not be particularly learned, and they may not have very forceful natures, like this Beast you seem to have befriended, but they are on the whole honest and good. You'd be a fool to take those qualities lightly."

"But he is also honest and good," Belle murmured to herself as she stared into the fire.

Laurent's expression softened somewhat as he saw his sister's sorrow, but he spoke firmly. "You have a decision to make, Belle. You can either pine for what will never be, or you can take stock of the life that current circumstances have offered you and make the most of it."

Although she knew that Laurent spoke the truth, Belle looked at him sharply. "There is a third route. You overlooked it, perhaps because it applies to your own situation."

"What do you mean?"

"If I chose, I could also live entirely in the past, refusing to advance in any way, lest I damage my precious memories of what was and what has been lost." She glanced briefly about their childhood home. "Nothing here has changed, Laurent. You have not allowed it to change. Not a single pot or pan has been rearranged."

"I see your point," her brother said in a low voice, returning his gaze to the boot that he was mending. "But I didn't stay here just so that I could relive the past. I wanted to be prepared for my sister's return."

There was immense hurt in his voice, and Belle regretted her harsh words. Still, something had to be done. They could not lament by the fireside forever. "You are the best brother I could ever imagine," she said softly, "and I'm unspeakably grateful that you waited for me."

Laurent looked up at her and smiled fondly. "I'm the eldest son. It's my duty and my joy to care for my family." But Belle knew that it was the joy, more than the duty, that had made her brother keep vigil for her.

She thought for a few moments before saying, "You have not regretted living in the past. Do you think if I did the same, it might turn out well for me, too?"

"No," he immediately replied, with the bluntness that seemed to characterize their family. "I do think it would turn out well at all."

"Then I must move forward."

"You must."

"I think I'd better live in town."

"That seems wise to me."

"But what will you do, Laurent?" Belle looked at him with a good deal of concern. "You mustn't wither away here."

Laurent leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "The people of our family do not wither. You proved that during your time with the Beast. I'll stay here, but I promise not to remain stagnant any longer."

"I think you should find yourself a wife," Belle suggested with a devious grin.

Now Laurent laughed more heartily. "Perhaps. Then _she_ could rearrange all the pots and pans. That would put your mind at ease, wouldn't it?"

Brother and sister spent a quiet evening together, reminiscing on the past and planning for the future. The next day, Belle packed up her meager belongings and went to live with Marie and her household. There would be no more pining. Or so she hoped.

**So that's what's happening. I'm already at work on the next chapter, so hopefully I can give you a more satisfying update soon! **


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